Alta Marea
by stones
Summary: Sasuke&Itachi. Because everyone knows that there are two sides to every story.
1. There is the first

**Alta Marea**

by **stones**

* * *

The only life is bugs and moss. Everything else is death and decay.

But once in a while, like on this foggy morn, a pair of sandals scratch against the dirt roads until they stop, shift uncomfortably, and stay in place. On the wall is a mural, one in the shape of a giant red fan. It remains intact and distinguishable, though the many years have worn it away to a dull red. A crack runs through the middle. The dark, gray stone wall is blotched with water stains and cracked with the weight of _everything_.

Perhaps out of the strange humor that fate tends to have, or maybe someone had just unknowingly carried a seed from the forest on his or her clothing until it discarded itself along the road, there appeared a rosebush from the rocky soil and forever remained.

A pair of legs crouches as a fingers glides along the tip of the flowers. The roses are blood red.

They are what the fan once was.

-

-

**i.**

The day he is born is the day he starts digging his grave.

He is still young, still _fresh_. And for this reason, his mother believes that maybe he can save himself because she knows she can't.

He does not see any of this nor will he ever remember it. His eyes are still closed and his tiny mind, his mother thinks, can rest for the time being. At least let him enjoy that. She is dirty, sweaty, and filled with love as she holds her youngest son in her arms and stares down into that pink face of his, knowing that she would have called him ugly if it were not her own.

She glances to the side. She glances at her _life_. Her husband is standing at the side of the bed, an emotion in his eyes. She knows this emotion. It is one of the few he will show. In his eyes lies pride. And they look at _the baby_ sternly. And for a moment, Mikoto can't help but feel jealous. She holds the baby closer to her so that she can feel his small breaths and she looks down at her object of envy. Because Uchiha Sasuke has a long life ahead of him, filled with meaning and accomplishments. And she doesn't.

Next to her husband is her eldest son, standing on his tiptoes to sneak a peak as his younger sibling. Mikoto coddles Sasuke closer, selfishly keeping him to herself though she desperately wants to share this new gift with her son.

Her husband pats Itachi on the head and sighs deeply. "You will be a great older brother."

She notices that he does not compliment her—no their—newborn baby. They will come to notice that it is because Sasuke is hers and Itachi is his.

"Sasuke," her husbands says next to her. But he is not looking at her nor is he looking at his newborn son. His eyes are on Itachi and he sets a heavy hand upon that child's shoulder. The heaviest there is. "Your little brother's name is Sasuke."

Later when her husband is retrieving some coffee from the cafeteria and Itachi is fast asleep on a lone chair, head leaning against the wall, she holds Sasuke closer and looks straight into his eyes, imagining that they are open and looking back at her.

"Sasuke," she says, a small smile on her face. "_Your_ name is Sasuke."

On that day, Uchiha Sasuke's parents walked along the wet soil and tested the earth for softness.

**ii.**

There is a moment when they are not Uchihas. They are just Itachi and Sasuke.

They are only brothers.

A mother kneels by her garden, dirt slimy in her hand as she fills in a hole. She leans back to stretch and runs an arm on her sweaty forehead. Taking a peak at her sons, she realizes that this is how it _should_ be.

Sasuke, having recently learned how to walk, wobbles around on his legs, falling over because he is so ready to run when he has not yet mastered the walk. His older brother is following closely behind, merely staring at him as he tries to move faster than his chubby little feet will take him. Each time he falls on his little bottom, his older brother is there to gently encourage him to continue without using words. Sasuke figures that the way Itachi squeezes his fingers as he gently lifts him up is his way of saying that he's there.

Sasuke follows a butterfly, tripping over his plump toes as he chases the golden bug. He refuses to get up without Itachi's help. He will allow his brother to guide him. Because, Sasuke later figures, that is what little brothers do.

But when he falls, his older brother is not there.

When Uchiha Mikoto sees her husband emerge from the house, she sadly looks at her youngest son, whose chubby cheeks have puffed up in cheer and eyes swelled in adoration. She isn't surprised when her husband simply beckons Itachi to follow him and the two of them leave the garden, leaving Sasuke sitting alone in the grass.

She takes off her gardening gloves and smoothes out her dirty skirt. As she steps towards her baby who is looking around like he is lost, she feels that the grass is crisp as the blades stab at her feet. When she picks up her son, he starts to cry and thrash in her arms.

When she looks back at the empty garden, she realizes this it is not how it should be, but this is how it _is._

**iii.**

One day a stray, small kitten finds itself on the Uchiha's front porch.

Sasuke watches it with a small smile as his mother bends down and runs her hand along the kitten's ears, scratching lightly at its triangular ears. She softly purrs herself, comforting the small black kitten that is staring at them with wide eyes. Sasuke can't help but notice it has incredibly clear, gray eyes—so different than his. They bring him into the house, his mother saying that they can't just _leave_ him. The poor thing.

She gathers a bowl of milk as Sasuke sticks his small finger in front of the kitten and wiggles it around, grinning when the kitten spreads himself out on his back and swats his paw at his finger.

"Momma," he says when his mother comes to where Sasuke is lying on his stomach, playing with the kitten, and crouches as she sets the bowl down on the floor with a small clink. Sasuke pulls his finger back when the kitten jumps up and starts to lap at the milk, looking as if he would fall in the bowl any minute.

"Yes?"

"Is it a boy?" he asks, tilting his head to look at her.

She smiles and shrugs her shoulders, settling herself on her knees. She runs a hand through Sasuke's hair and musses it up more, but Sasuke doesn't seem to notice. "Why don't you check?"

Sasuke presses his cheek against the floor and takes a peak under the kitty. He brings himself back up when he does see that it is a boy, and he sends a serious nod towards his mother as she giggles. But there is nothing funny about this. When the kitten is done eating, he takes the kitten into his room and sits on his bed, kitten in lap. The kitten curls up into a tiny ball and Sasuke is scared to move, afraid that if he makes the tiniest movement, the kitten will scurry away. He lifts his hand over the kitten and moves it up and down, pretending to pet him. The small feline's breaths are even as his chest moves up and down. Sasuke realizes he feels something swell in his chest.

His mother just laughs when she sees him with the kitten and says, "You really love him, don't you?" Sasuke answers by rubbing the kitten's belly. "Looking over him like that all the time." She smiles. "Sort of like your little brother, ne, Sasuke?"

Sasuke nods in agreement. Yes, like his little brother.

He shows Itachi the kitten when his brother gets home, the kitten hiding in his small arms. Itachi just looks down at his brother and the animal in his arms. "You shouldn't bring strays into the house."

"Momma did," he corrects, slightly bouncing the kitten up and down. He had seen many women with small children doing this, and he copies their movements expertly.

"Hn," is what his brother says and he leaves. Sasuke runs back to his room, shielding the kitten away from the world. Good, he thinks. All mine then. Later that night, his mother and father have a talk. His father leaves the room looking rather angry. His mother stays behind, picking at her nails with her teeth absently as she sighs heavily, her breaths cracking every now and then. Sasuke knows this is not good news. He runs into his room and wraps his blanket around his kitten.

"Don't cry," he tells his kitten, poking his whiskers. He sniffles and tries to comfort the kitten as the small animal tries to lick the tears rolling down his cheeks. "Please don't cry. I'm going to love you, and never forget, because brothers are there to look after each other. Don't cry, okay? Okay?" The kitten just stops and stares.

The next morning mother and son walk through town, son holding a small blob of black fur in his arms.

"You're going to smother him, Sasuke," she scolds him.

He just glares at her. She doesn't understand the logic. Maybe if he holds on tight enough, he won't have to let go.

The kitten is asleep when they reach a small building that Sasuke never knew existed. He determines this is a scary place and a sad one too. He looks at all the animal's faces, the big brown eyes that cry out for him. There are old and young, big and small, and if Sasuke could, he would take them all home with him because he knows how they feel just by the way they look at him. His mother nearly has to pry the kitten from his arms when the man working at the pound asks for feline. Sasuke looks away, pretending that the small tear leaving his eye is not there.

"Why did we have to leave him there?" he asks when they are walking back, hand in hand.

He wants to know what happened to his little brother. He wants to know what happened to all those little brothers sitting in those tight cages and wonders how people can so easily exile them like that.

"He is not wanted," his mother explains softly, keeping her eyes straight ahead.

Sasuke guesses that this makes sense. Little brothers usually never are.

**iv.**

They are sitting close to each other and she drapes an arm around his small shoulder as she flips through the photo album on her lap. Sasuke rests his tiny head against her body and listens to her breathing, trying to match hers. His eyes scan over the pictures of relatives he guesses, and he's far to small to even care about them. But he looks over at his mother and he can see her smile, a sad smile.

"Look Sasuke," she says, tapping her finger against a picture of a young woman, smiling at the camera. Her arms are in the air as if she is presenting something magnificent. Her smile is so wide that Sasuke thinks that if he knew how to count past ten, he would be able to count her shiny teeth. He guesses that she is dancing to no beat, swinging any which way she likes. Looking back to her smile, he can't help but curve his own lips. "That's me. Before I knew your father."

He is surprised when she says this and he looks at the picture harder. Yes, he can see that dark, dark hair. Those high cheeks. Those dark eyes. But the smile is still foreign. His mother never smiles like that. And she is so young and she is so vibrant and he realizes that he forgot his mother is just another person.

She flips the page before he can say anything and she sees that same girl holding a small bundle of a baby in her arms. He knows who it is, but his mother affirms it when she breathes, "Your brother."

Sasuke is in awe when he looks down at the small baby. The small baby whose lips crunch as if he is about to cry. The small baby that has a small patch of black hair on his head. That small baby that is just a baby and still not Uchiha Itachi. He does not even notice that his mother's smile has slightly died.

"Such as small baby," his mother muses as she leans into him to rest her head against Sasuke's hair. He can feel her warm breath as she exhales and can sense her smile as it pulls against her lips. "So small. Smaller than you were Sasuke."

"Me?" he asks, turning away so that the warm spot where his mother had breathed on him is now cold.

She nods with a small smile, pushing small rebellious strands from his face. "Tiny little thing," his mother continues. "I was so scared that one day he would just break, just _snap_. I never wanted to let him go. I used to hold him _so_ close."

"Smaller than me?" Sasuke asks, still amazed by this simple fact.

"Yes, Sasuke," she say, smile slowly fading. "Smaller than you." She looks back to the picture and runs her finger along the torn corners. "Your father hated it—the way I snuggled with him whenever I could. It's just hard to not be able to keep your baby from everything hard in the world. I just wish that I could live all the horror in the world so my son can live in peace—so my _sons_ can live in peace." She shrugs, trying to expel these thoughts, because now it doesn't matter. "It seems so long ago."

Sasuke doesn't even know that this is a special moment for her. He just continues to look at the picture. He looks at that baby, the baby that is supposedly his older brother. And Sasuke takes pride in the fact that the baby is about to cry and that he and his older brother were once on the same level. Even better, his older brother was once weaker than Sasuke had been. And at the time, Sasuke thinks this can only mean one thing.

One day Uchiha Sasuke will go farther than Uchiha Itachi will ever go, though he can't lie and say that that does not scare him.

**v.**

When the Uchiha brothers are older, they both realize, they love hating each other.

Sasuke determines that Itachi is too _perfect_ for his own good. And he _wants_ that. He _needs _that. He practices throwing shuriken and doesn't stop doing laps until he vomits into the grass, his small, lithe body shaking from the overly brutal conditioning. But he doesn't care. He can't care. He is an Uchiha and damn it, he plans on being one of the best.

After his brother of course. Because now he knows no matter how many times Uchiha Sasuke vows to himself that he would surprass his older sibling, the back of his mind won't let him believe that. He knows Itachi will always be the best. And he will always be the little brother of the genius, the leader, the protégé.

He will always be a little brother.

At the dinner table, they are always quiet. Sasuke eyes his brother however, thinking that his brother doesn't notice his intense observations. He sees the scars on his hands and arms and can't help but want them burned in his flesh. He wants the pain. He wants the painful reminder. He wants to hurt. He just doesn't know that he already is.

After dinner, Itachi disappears into his room as usual and his father shortly leaves after. Now it is just Sasuke and his mother. As it should be, his mother thinks. She dries the dishes after she washes them, humming a soft song that is the soundtrack to Sasuke's life, because later when he trains, when he gets ready to sleep, when he just wants to _give up_, he hums that small tune until he can feel his mother within him. Because that is the only way he knows she is still there.

"Some cake for your thoughts?" his mother asks as she sneaks him extra dessert when she sees his troubled, young face hidden in his hands.

He looks up and takes his hands from his hair, making the dark strands stand here and there in a way that makes Mikoto want to laugh and muss it up either further. But those games had ended long ago. Now, she knows, that no matter how much Sasuke enjoys the silly attention, he will not admit it. Because, he had told her numerous times, _I'm not a baby_. She never tells him that he will always be to her.

"Does Father hate me?" is what he asks, being so blunt and to the point that for a moment she is taken back.

She hides this surprise and mumbles, "Silly boy."

"Am I doing something wrong?" he asks, tiny fingers wrapping themselves around a silver spoon as he cuts through the cake.

She tilts her head as she scans his face, thinking of how soft his cheeks must feel. "Wrong?"

He sighs and drops the spoon, looking away from the cake. "Father never wants to talk to me."

Instead of telling him the cold hard truth, she decides that she will lie. She does not tell him that he is, in fact, the son that her husband barely notices. She does not tell him that she must sit through her husband's rants about Itachi and his progress when all she wants to do is talk about Sasuke. She loves Itachi. He is her son. Her baby boy. He always will be. She loves Sasuke too, but even more, she can relate. She finds that they are both sitting on the back burner.

And misery loves company.

"He never talks to anyone," Mikoto says, taking Sasuke's small hand into her own. She grazes his knuckles with her nails and for a second she can see that Sasuke is perhaps content, but he soon pulls away and scolds her.

"I'm too old for those things."

But she disagrees. He is never too old to be her son.

"You know how your father and brother are," she sighs standing up to finish the dishes. Sasuke stabs his spoon into his cake. "They barely talk. They can keep it all inside like that."

It is then that Sasuke begins to understand his mother a little bit better. She begins to do this a lot. Starting a conversation with him, letting it stem into much more, and she begins talking to herself. Or at least that's what he figures. Because when she talks, she does not look at him and she smiles softly to herself as she runs her fingers through her hair, remembering past memories that he has never known.

Sometimes when it is late at night and Itachi is away on duty, he stays awake and thinks about the things that his older brother is doing. He imagines him running through the trees with great speed and agility. When an enemy approaches, Sasuke can just _see_ him rip through them without a second thought, the blood spattering across the grass like art in motion. Thoughts make him restless and he can't help but step out of his bed, thinking that a walk to get a glass of water will help him calm down.

The first time he passes Itachi's room and _senses_ that someone is in there, he is curious. He steps towards the room, pretending that he himself is on a secret mission. He must remain graceful and agile. He _must_ be like Itachi.

And that's when he hears his mother's cries. Through the small crack through the door, he can see her hold up a small shirt, fit for a baby, he guesses, and hug it closely to her person. He sees the dim outline of the fan on the back of the tiny shirt, but his mother doesn't even look at it. She does not sob annoyingly. They are silent tears, meant only for her. But she sniffles and he is sure that if he were close, he would be able to see those tears stream down her face. She suddenly stands rigid as she takes a deep breath, wiping her tears away with the back of her hand. She folds the small shirt and puts it away in the drawer, a drawer that Sasuke had explored many times when his brother was not home. The drawer that contained most of the things from Itachi's childhood- if one could call it that. When she closes the drawer, she lets her hand linger on the handle.

He can barely hear her whisper as she says, "I used to hold you _so_ close."

He is jealous. Not because his mother is showing Itachi affection, but because his mother and brother once had a close bond of some sort. And Sasuke has had nothing.

At times like those, his mother is a different person. She is a human. But her demeanor changes quickly, becoming the dutiful wife and mother that she had willingly become once she married his father.

"There are people who can do that," she now sighs, emptying scraps of food into the garbage from a plate. "But I guess there are those like you and me who need to be talked to. Just so we know that someone knows we are alive."

Sasuke stands up from the table and leaves the room.

From then on, he is determined to talk as little as possible.

His eyes are set on Itachi and maybe even his father. But if there is one thing he does not want to be, it's pathetic. And that's why he can't be like his mother.

This is when Sasuke digs his fingers into the thick earth and lets it ooze through his fingers. The rocks scratch him and he secretly hopes that they'll scar. He doesn't seem to notice that his blood mixes with the dirt.

**vi.**

One day Uchiha Sasuke purposefully cuts himself with his brother's kunai.

It was his brother's first kunai, the one given to him by his father, therefore tradition to cherish it and keep it safe. Numerous times he had knocked on his older brother's bedroom door, only to have Itachi open it and look blankly at his younger sibling. Like the many times before, Sasuke asks him if he can see _it_. Itachi nods, letting Sasuke into his room. Sasuke is surprised that his older brother keeps it at the bottom of a drawer and lets it get dusty. But it has been kept clean lately, courtesy of Sasuke.

Itachi studies a scroll as Sasuke climbs onto Itachi's bed and holds the kunai carefully in his palm, as if it would shatter under the slightest pressure. His eyes are wide as he turns it, the light bouncing off the glittering metal extraordinarily. He lifts a finger and traces the edge of the blade, noticing it is quite dull.

"Can I sharpen this?" he asks one day.

Itachi doesn't even look, but Sasuke can see him purse his lips. "Hn."

So Sasuke sharpens it until he is sure that it is as razor-sharp as the day it was given to his older brother. His father would have been proud. And maybe he would have expressed that pride if it was Itachi that had sharpened it.

At dinner, Sasuke continues to look at Itachi's scars. He determines he needs some.

So, the next time he looks at Itachi's kunai, he presses the blade against the skin of his open palm, mesmerized by the way his flesh gives way to the blade, separating as the metal weapon snuggles itself into a tight crevice of a cut. Blood drips from the cut and runs down his finger. He follows it with his eyes, enthralled by the way it drips onto Itachi's clean sheets.

"Sasuke," he hears and he glances up with shock at his brother who is standing before his own bed, looking down at his younger sibling.

Not a word is exchanged as Itachi wraps his fingers around Sasuke's hands and together they pull the kunai from the wound. Sasuke, disappointed that he wasn't able to see his blood on the weapon, leaves the room that night feeling proud of the small cut on his hand.

And during the next couple of days, he picks at the scabs that try to form until the skin that grows back is light, pink, and wrinkly. He smiles.

Later he tells people that the scar is from intense training with his brother, nose held high in the air and chest puffed out in confidence. Everyone tells him how lucky he is to have someone so great train him.

They needn't tell him. He already knows.

Everyone tells him how luck he is to have Itachi as an older brother.

He can't help but agree. He can't help but disagree.

But Sasuke knows that Itachi would not be so wishy-washy and would confidently know what he felt without second-guesses. So he decides he has to choose. In the end, he chooses to hate his older brother because he figures that that will make him stronger in the end. It becomes all that he knows how to do.

Because he loves to hate and hates to love his older brother.

"When will _I _get mine?" he asks his mother one day when he arrives at home for lunch and stuffs his face with a rice ball.

"You'll get yours when the time is right," his mother answers, leaving him still at a loss. He shoves the last of his food into his mouth and bids his mother goodbye.

She asks him what's the hurry. He doesn't have to be back at the academy in another half an hour. He reminds her that he can use that free time to train. And she sadly smiles at him when he looks at her seriously and says, "No pain, no gain."

A couple days later, he stumbles upon a rare moment. He walks into the kitchen and sees his father standing in front of the wide-open fridge, fashioning a stern face. Sasuke does not know what to say. Sasuke does not know what to _do. _And then he applauds Itachi for something else: how he can keep his cool by their father.

Sasuke sits at the table, making a lot of noise so that he is sure that his father knows that he is there. Though, he is sure he needn't have done that. His father is a great man—he probably sensed him coming a mile away. Sasuke sits quietly and attentively, hands crossed, waiting for his father's orders.

When his father turns around, however, he is surprised that he opens his mouth to talk. "Sasuke."

Sasuke's head snaps up quickly, showing him just how proud he is that he is an Uchiha, and more importantly, his son. In his peripheral version, he can see something in his father's hand. And this is it, Sasuke thinks. This is his gift from his father. And it's all _his_.

"Want a tomato?" his father simply says, throwing the small vegetable his way. "Good for the eyes." Sasuke catches it as his father leaves the room, eyebrows arched in confusion.

He is disappointed, to say the least. Disappointment, actually, is putting it lightly. But his father had given him something. Something that he hadn't given Itachi.

As he bit into that tomato, he decided that he had never tasted anything so good.

That night as Sasuke passes the small garden outside, on the way to his room, he sees his parents sitting calmly. Surprised, Sasuke stops and observes this phenomenon, burning it into his memory. He can hear his dad whisper lowly and his voice is so low, so _mysterious_ that he can't make out the words. But he hears his mother. And he gets so frustrated with what she is doing.

"He's getting restless," she sighs, turning fully to her husband that is running his tongue along his teeth lazily. "You know that. He only wants your acceptance."

His father mumbles something incoherent and from that day on, he grows so frustrated every time he thinks about all the possible things that his father could have said that he throws tantrums. Age makes no difference. Knowing that those words could have been positive, could have been _proud_ makes him so mad. That was all he had ever wanted. And he would never know if he had gotten it.

"Just do it soon," Mikoto says as she places her small hand over Fugaku's.

Sasuke burns with jealousy as his father gathers his mother's hand into his own and looks straight at her. "Tomorrow."

And Sasuke is so mad that the next morning he does something that makes his mother shake with shock.

As he walks into the kitchen in the morning, his mother turns from the stove that she is cooking over and smiles sweetly at him. So sweetly that he would have ran to hug her when he was smaller because that was the smile that had taken away all his troubles. But, now, he tells himself that he won't fall for her enchantments. He looks her straight into the eye and gathers his hands into balls of fists.

"_Bitch_."

He can see his mother back away with confusion, eyes wide. As her back hits the counter and her hand goes back to catch her stumble, her hand falls straight into the flame of the stove and she then stumbles forward, mumbling curses to herself. Then it is silent and Sasuke can hear movements. It is then that he finally looks around the kitchen, surprised to see his brother at the small kitchen table.

He looks back to his mother who had gathered herself in the middle of the kitchen, burnt hand held close. He knows this face. Her lower lip quivers as her nostrils flare. He doesn't even flinch as she brushes past him, running. And he decides he likes that.

He looks back to his older brother who stands from the table and disposes of his plate in the sink. And for once in a long time, Itachi fully looks at him and gives him a look that Sasuke cannot decipher. It feels like an eternity has passed as Itachi walks past him to leave the kitchen, eyes red as his stare digs through Sasuke. And Sasuke is left alone in the kitchen. He shrugs and grabs a tomato from the fridge.

He _knows_ she deserved it.

It is no surprise that that night his father gives him his very own kunai. But his isn't as shiny as Itachi's. It isn't even that sharp to begin with. And in the back of Sasuke's head, he can't help but think that his father had just pulled it from his supply and called it a day. Sasuke would have never thought that he would put his first kunai in the same place Itachi did, in the bottom of a drawer, but he does.

One day, Sasuke decides that he's not going to take this lying down.

He knocks on his older brother's door. And Itachi lets him in, but this time Sasuke surprises him. He offers him a deal. Sasuke's kunai for Itachi's. In the end, Itachi nods and Sasuke leaves his room smiling, holding Itachi's—no his—kunai in his hand.

And it is so special. Because the kunai that his father had given Itachi had been given a lot of thought and no doubt handed with pride and grace. Sasuke smirks as he imagines Itachi put away the kunai Sasuke had traded him. And Sasuke can see the dull edges and greasy handle. And he is glad that it is no longer his.

Uchiha Sasuke sits on the ground and digs into the mud, finally pushing away _mounds_ of dirt, using Itachi's kunai, given to him by their father.

**vii.**

"What do you think happens after you die?" Uchiha Sasuke asks his brother one day while he sits on Itachi's bed, watching Itachi read a scroll. As usual.

"Nothing happens," Itachi mumbles back, eyes scanning over the scroll on front of him. Sasuke shifts and lays himself over his stomach, head resting in his hands. He can hear the rain pound against the roof and the spring drizzle smells so good, so _clean_ that he could for once skip training and just take a nap.

"Nothing?" Sasuke asks, disappointed with his brother's answer. He pulls his hands from underneath his chin and lets his arms hang over the edge of the bed while he digs his face into a pillow.

"What do you believe?" Itachi asks, surprising Sasuke. After hearing this, Sasuke's head shoots up from the pillow and he looks to his brother who is still looking at the scroll. But his excitement fades because he doesn't quite know what to say. He's never _believed. _He's only _followed_.

"I don't know what to believe," Sasuke says. "No one has ever told me what happens."

"Sometimes, Sasuke," Itachi says as Sasuke watches as his brother's eyes leave the scroll and scan the wall in front of him, "you need to think for yourself."

Then his eyes go back to the scroll and Sasuke lets his head fall back onto the pillow. He doesn't sigh though he would like to. He supposes that his disappointment has flooded the room, drowning both him and his brother in expectations. So after a couple moments of silence, Itachi speaks.

"Father once told me that the dead become spirits. And they live in everything around us."

Sasuke's eyes widen as he imagines his father saying that to him. "Everything? Like trees?" Itachi nods. "Flowers?" Itachi nods.

He finally rolls up the scroll, finished. As he puts it away, he talks. "Father said he believes our family become water spirits." He stands up from his seat and opens the door, signalizing Sasuke's time to leave.

"Why water spirits?" He pulls himself away from his brother's bed and makes his way for the door and Itachi is waiting by the exit, ready to answer his question.

"Because rivers make their own path, waves crash persistently over the restraining sand, and ponds hold bountiful life and potential."

Sasuke doesn't even look at his brother as he says these things. Instead, he closes his eyes, imagining him and his father standing by a lake. And proudly, he would turn to Sasuke and tell him about these water spirits. And intelligently, Sasuke would understand.

He pauses at the door, still curious. "How do you know if you're dying?"

"You'll hear a ticking clock," Itachi replies back without a pause. "The last seconds of your life are the loudest."

Itachi closes the door behind Sasuke and he is left to his own devices.

A few times, Sasuke fills the bathtub as high as he can. He pushes his head under the ice cold water and opens his eyes, not caring that the freezing temperatures sting his eyes. Once he walks down to a small river, careful not to fall in. The rain that is tapping against him, he figures, is too small. It'd be nearly impossible to find a spirit in them. Typing a rope around his waist and tying the other side to a tree to make sure he will not get caught in the current, he dunks his head under water and stays there until his lungs are pounding, begging for air. He knows he won't die; he doesn't hear the ticking clock. He stays under there until his vision starts to narrow as his head grows light.

He tries to search for them, but they are never there.

Uchiha Shisui drowns a week later. Sasuke thinks it's fitting.

**viii.**

Uchiha Sasuke concludes that girls are annoying.

They are around the age where girls are supposed to be stupid and annoying and boys are supposed to have diseases and cooties. But these rules don't seem to apply to Uchiha Sasuke, because like his brother, they are in a league all their own and rulebooks don't apply here. There are two girls that particularly take an interest in him and everyday they push and shove, yell and insult, a clash of blonde and pink. Sasuke wants to tell them that they are wasting their breath, time, and energy on someone who does not deserve it. But he does not say this out loud because there is a part of him that likes the attention and revels in it, letting it lull him into a false feeling of being wanted.

"Get over it, Five-head," the blonde one blurts, her hands on her hips. "Sasuke would never want you. You're too weak. Too _pink_."

He has to agree. She does look kind of stupid with that hair.

"Who asked you, Pig?" the pink-haired one asks, head pivoting back and forth as she pushes her butt out with an attitude that Sasuke thinks he _sort of _admires. "And look at you. You're loud and obnoxious and plain _stupid_. You're not a blonde for nothin', you know."

He has to agree. She does look kind of stupid with that hair.

One day, Sasuke shares his observation with his mother, telling her that girls are too much trouble and should just keep quiet and leave him alone. He has better things to think about. His mother just smiles at him, making him feel belittled because she offers him the smile that tells him he's missing something. And whoever said that what he doesn't know won't hurt him is downright dumb, because the feeling of not knowing is the worst feeling in the world.

"You say that now," his mother says softly. "But when you're older, _you're_ going to be the one chasing after those girls."

"As if," Sasuke snorts, crossing his arms stubbornly, and mumbles, "Itachi doesn't run after _girls_."

His mother takes a slow sip of her tea, and he sees her lips smile against the china. He furrows his eyebrows at this smile, not knowing what has sparked this sweet sign of happiness. The small teacup clinks against the tiny plate his mother sets it on and she rests her elbow on the table very unladylike and sets her head in her hand.

"I wouldn't say that," she says, smiling mischievously at Sasuke. "Want to know something?" she asks, leaning into her youngest son.

He nods quickly, simply _craving_ to know more.

"I sometimes catch Itachi sneaking some flowers from the garden," she says, turning to look out the window. Sasuke follows her gaze with his own eyes, but cannot see the garden. In his head, instead, he imagines his older brother as he tiptoes out of the house and into the garden, slowly picking a tulip from his mother's garden. But he decides that this picture isn't _right_. It doesn't really fit.

"You see, Sasuke, boys only get girls flowers when the girl that they love is giving them a hard time," his mother explains to him, biting her lower lip as her cheeks rise from her sly smile. "It seems like even Itachi has a weak spot."

Sasuke doesn't tell her that this is highly unlikely.

"Who is this girl?" Sasuke asks, angry at this new obstacle that has come between his brother and him.

His mother only shrugs and wraps her hands around the small teacup. "Whoever it is, I wish her luck. Bless her soul."

Then he imagines Itachi with this girl as he gives her the flowers and her face lights up in joy. He studies Itachi's face closely in his mind as his dark, red eyes look down upon this girl. How she can resist and give her brother a hard time is beyond him. This girl-- whoever it is—must be worthy of attention. She must be strong and determined. It is no wonder why his brother finds her interesting.

He gets mad and jealous when he thinks about this girl, but can't help but want to laugh at the thought of Itachi picking flowers.

It is only when his mother leaves that he notices he is smiling mischievously too.

One day while Sasuke is walking home from the academy, the silly pink-haired girl that he knows stares at him at whatever chance she gets, walks up to him. There is a small blush on her face, but he sees determination as she thins her lips and notices that she gathers her courage as she breaths deeply.

"Uchiha Sasuke," she says, sounding very business-like. "I am going to marry you one day. Plan your life accordingly."

Then she runs, leaving a very shocked Sasuke. At least he will never have to pick her flowers.

Soon they both learn that Sasuke is not good at plotting.

And as the story goes, his brother must be to do the things he will do.

The grave is knee-deep and dirt brushes onto his kneecaps. But he grabs a shovel into his soft hands and lets them become callous. Later he will count the blisters with a smirk.

**ix.**

The days after the massacre are cloudy to Uchiha Sasuke.

He remembers his clan's broken bodies as they litter the streets, becoming trash in their own kingdom. He remembers his brother's eyes and the things he tells him, though Sasuke makes sure not too think about it too long. He remembers his parent's warm, _pure_ blood as it drenches him when he hugs their lifeless bodies and he curses his brother for taking them. As his tears mix with their blood, he curses his parents for _leaving_. He is so mad at his mother as he holds her, rubbing his face into the cold crook of her neck. He is so fucking _pissed_ that he calls her bitch over and over until his throat goes dry and even then he says it in his head. But that voice softens in his head as he strokes her hair and looks over her blank face that stars back at him hauntingly until he calls her what she has always wanted her sons to see her as.

"Mother," he whispers once as he brushes the hair from her face. He begins to wipe her cheeks, pretending that she is crying, because he is sure that if she were alive right now, she would be sobbing hysterically. "I love you. Don't forget, okay?" And he holds her close for a while, repeating, "Don't forget."

He cries harder when he sees his father lying on the ground, face down. He does not even lift his father to look at his face because he does not want his father to see the disgrace that Sasuke has become. He stays at his father's side for a long time. So long that he enters a world all his own, one dancing on the fine line between consciousness and sweet dreams. But Sasuke's mind will not let him enter his dreams and will forever give him nightmares instead.

The next couple of weeks he can barely remember.

But he does remember that he will not let anyone wash his parent's dried blood of off him. He wants to hold onto them as long as he can. He just _can't_ let go.

He does not feel shame as he cries in a bed that is not his own. He does not feel embarrassed as he screams and shouts his father's name in the middle of the night, begging him to notice him. He does not feel humiliation as he yells for his mother, hoping that she will tuck him in just one _last_ time.

What he remembers the most and what truly scares him is that as he lies in bed, staring straight at the ceiling, he can't help but notice that he still thinks about his brother and what he is doing.

What he has done, what he is doing, and what he will do.

Because Sasuke knows he still needs to be like his brother and he knows that he will do _anything_ to achieve that.

There are theories.

The old women in Konoha like to whisper among themselves. Having too little to worry about and so much time on their old, wrinkled hands, they give a mysterious, supernatural life to the event. From their cracked, thin lips spill a story of a young boy, a good boy. So close to perfect. But where there is good, there is the temptation for evil. An evil spirit must have been searching for a long time, they say. A dark, cloudy mist of evil stalked through Fire country, bloodthirsty and ready to strike again. The perfect candidate: Uchiha Itachi. Slowly, the demon took over, killing him from the inside, thus letting his own blood stain his eyes. By the time the old hags reach this part of the story, they just shake their heads and gulp, because they all know what happens next.

The younger men in Konoha spit to the ground after a long day of training, hands on their hips in a tired stance, and shake their heads. They barely speak of it, but they all know they wonder how someone like them—someone who trained, who ate rice balls, who had a family, who sat with them during breaks—could do such a thing. But then they think that he is not someone like them. Because who could he be but a monster? The younger men theorize that evil starts at birth. Uchiha Itachi was born a monster.

The smaller children at first say little to nothing. They look upon Sasuke with curious eyes, but cannot sympathize. After a few months go by, they stare at his back in class, because for some reason, they must think that he cannot _feel_ it. They whisper to each other on the playground. They create rhymes, and sometimes, sing them along while they jump rope.

_Poor Mother Uchiha_

_Her son didn't behave._

_Poor Mother Uchiha_

_Her son dug her grave._

Instead of playing cops and robbers, they play Itachi and family—though they will never admit it out loud. They all know the roles and they secretly play. Mostly they fight over the part of Itachi. Then comes the part of Sasuke—the boy who lives.

_Poor Father Uchiha_

_Of his son, he was proud._

_Poor Father Uchiha_

_He had never screamed so loud._

Sasuke only walks along, hands clenched in his pockets. A few brave children ask him to play, they will even give him the part of Sasuke. He doesn't even answer, just turns and continues to walk. Even if he did want to play, he would have preferred a different part. The last stanza of their rhyme they try to keep away from Sasuke's ears. And they are successful until a brash boy, one who will always carry a brutish sneer on his face, fights Sasuke. They roll around in the dirt, sending their fists flying. Once they are separated, the boy keeps his eyes on Sasuke and spits as he screams the last stanza mockingly.

_Poor Little Brother Uchiha_

_What is he to do?_

_Poor Little Brother Uchiha_

_Big Brother is coming for you._

Sasuke freezes and runs home. His nightmares become more real, and it is not a rare occurrence to wake up and roll out of wet sheets.

They continue their game until one boy comes crying to the playground and they all gather. He cries in fear, saying he saw the Uchiha. The Uchiha is watching. From then on, they go back to cops and robbers. When the Uchiha's name is mentioned, they gasp. To the smaller children of Konoha, Uchiha Itachi is a not a person. He is a story, a fairytale, a legend. He is just another Boogie Man.

The women in Konoha wrap their arms around themselves and share one word with each other concerning the subject: terrifying. The expecting mothers start spiritual meetings and take extra parenting classes. They'd be damned if they'd let their children slip into the deep pits of hell. The woman who carry their small children on their arm stare at their infants as they sleep in their cribs. They wait for the one second where the child will open his eyes, turn their heads towards them, and smile with a possessed grin. Because then they will know what kind of child this is. The women in Konoha are terrified as they stare upon their children, and don't know whether or not they will end up like Poor Mother Uchiha: killed by their own child.

There are those few who simply say that the boy went crazy. Had a few too many blows to the head, or he was born demented. Such scum should be put away, hidden from society. And when some say that this is cruel, they point to the Uchiha district and say, "That is not?"

Then there is the theory that Sasuke should be moved to another village. He is not safe. None of them are if he is around. So once again, Sasuke is left as the burden. The old women who spoke of evil and demons one day lengthen their tale. They claim that a dark soul wanders at night, searching once again. He flows with great speed and grace while his red eyes shine dangerously. They stare at Sasuke like an unwanted bomb. Because one day, they figure, this will all blow up in their faces, again.

He continues to train, continues to practice, never forgetting to look over his shoulder. When it is dark, he listens closely and jumps into fighting position over the tiniest of noises. When he reaches his room, he searches it until he knows it is just him, his bed, and the creaking wood. But he can still sees those eyes, and somehow he knows that his brother is waiting, that Sasuke himself is waiting, that the _world_ is waiting.

Sasuke is sure that the beads of moisture running down his cheeks are from the rain. And he pants frantically as he pushes the shovel into the mud, lifting away loads of dirt. It piles up beside the grave and now he realizes that he will have to climb over this mountain before he takes his last breath on his dark dying day.

_Big Brother is coming for you._

**x.**

He hates his team.

He hates everything they do, everything they say, everything they stand for, and everything they are. Sometimes while he spars with Naruto, he imagines himself losing control and plunging a kunai right into the side of his head and watching as the blood would flow marvelously from the wound, trickling down his hand to the scar that is slashed across his palm. With Sakura, he imagines himself older and stronger. He sees himself push her away once again, and he supposes that she would just die of heartache. He wouldn't even have to bother. It'd be a waste of energy if he did.

He can't lie and tell himself that he doesn't enjoy her attention. At the end of the day, he likes to think about the things she said about him, whether she knows he heard it or not. For once, someone has noticed him. For once, someone has called him strong. Someone has given him their affection. And that's when he realizes he also hates her attention. Because it's not coming from someone worthy.

What good has she ever done? What strength does she posses? What will she accomplish throughout her life?

And his answer is always the same: nothing. And that's why, he determines, she doesn't matter. She _can't_ matter.

Sasuke holds onto his brother's words for years to come. He repeats them in his head over and over until he does not even realize what is going around him, and all he can hear is his older brother's voice over his parent's cries.

"Hey bastard," Naruto says one day as he stuffs ramen into his mouth. Sasuke eyes the dripping noodle falling from the corner of his mouth with a look of disgust.

"Idiot."

"We're friends right?" Naruto asks, mouth full.

Sasuke does not even blink as he thinks. He even channels into his feelings to determine whether or not him and this boy sitting in front of him are friends. He figures he doesn't need them. He'll never need them. "Sure."

Then Naruto smiles.

And Sasuke concludes that this is the boy he will kill to get his eyes.

He looks down into the grave to make sure that there is room for two.

**xi.**

When he sees his brother the first time since that fateful day, he does not even _believe_ that it is him.

He had long become some distant memory, maybe even borderline fantasy. For so many nights, Uchiha Sasuke had thought about his brother and what he had chosen to show him—the way he looked so tall, so foreboding as he stood before his kneeling parents, the way the blood splurged so beautifully from their necks, cascading into a waterfall of red, the way the whole village smelled of copper and sickness. He had thought about it over and over, so much that it had become more or less a dream. And Uchiha Sasuke sometimes wonders if that is all that life is.

He cannot take the moment for granted. He knows he cannot.

"Sasuke," his brother says.

"Uchiha Itachi," he says.

All he wants to do is cry. But he doesn't. He doesn't even acknowledge the few words exchanged by them. Instead he scans his brother and tries to memorize everything, because as much as Sasuke hates to admit it, his brother is still an Uchiha. He realizes it's funny how he can hate something, but then love it so much more. His fist sizzles with a blue fury and he can feel every bit of hate, love, and any other emotion he had stored away for this very moment flow to the tips of his fingers. His nails dig into the scar on his hand, just to remind him how much pain he is feeling.

He yells at him. He _fucking_ lashes out. And he doesn't even care. Because now he can see his mother's tear-stained face and now he can hear his father's yells, the pitiful cries that Sasuke was sure he'd _never_ hear from his father. And it kills him, cuts him down even further.

He doesn't like to admit it, but he knows he should thank his brother for making him that much stronger.

"I've survived!" he yells at him, pulling away his collar because he is so fucking pissed, so fucking confused, so fucking _everything_ that he is choking on the thin air alone.

He lunges at his brother, runs so fast that he for a second believes he's running on the dense air. For a second he can see it as he lifts his chidori charged hand, aiming straight for his brother's heart. He figures it is about time his brother's heart was crushed. He is so close, so very close, but Sasuke should have figured.

There is no winning with Uchiha Itachi.

Without wasting too much energy, his brother merely catches his wrists and deflects his attack. Sasuke knows it has always been this easy for him. The wall crumbles to pieces beside them and Sasuke for a second is his young self, relieved that his brother, the boy who had picked him up when he had fallen down, had not been tragically caught in the blow. But then he looks into his brother's eyes and he is put back into reality. His chidori fizzes away into nothing. And it is silent.

"I have no interest in you right now."

Sasuke thinks his heart had died a long time ago, so he is confused when he feels something break in his chest as hard as his wrist when his brother snaps it like a twig. And Sasuke thinks that that is the story of his life. He _knows_ that it is the story of his life. Because even if he did somehow succeed in killing his older brother, the talk of the town would be the death of Itachi and not of the triumph of Sasuke.

He ends up bruised and battered on the floor and he hears the clicks of Itachi's sandals coming toward him. He hears the ticking clock and believes this is the end.

But it is not. It will not come that easy.

**xii.**

Uchiha Sasuke is just a boy, and like every boy his age, he has thoughts, feelings, and hormones.

The first night he has a wet dream, he dreams of Ino. For her age, he can say that she is quite developed. The dream is foggy and hazy, and he can barely keep his eyes open because he is so relaxed. Ino appears and she sways her hips and Sasuke wonders when he began to notice such things. Her hair is down and when she sits next to him on his bed, it falls over him. He thinks it smells like vanilla and even though he did not tell his body to do this, he grabs her and pulls her over him, crashing his lips upon hers.

She begins to fumble around with his pants and he can't do anything but close his eyes, sigh, and lay his head back on his soft pillow and allow her to do her job. She hardly speaks, but when she does, it is not Ino's voice coming from her mouth, it is Sakura's. And she tells him over and over how strong he is, and that the world lies in the palm of his hands. He just puts a hand over her mouth and tells her to shut up, because really, he doesn't want to listen to her lies.

The dream continues and Sasuke dreams of things he never thought he would. But the feeling is so relaxing and exciting at the same time. It goes higher and higher until he wakes in bed, jumping up into a sitting position, sweat on his forehead. That morning he burns his sheets, getting rid of the evidence.

He doesn't need another thing telling him how pathetically weak he is—so weak that he cannot even control his own body or thoughts.

**xiii**.

Everyone just looks at him after it happens. And he hates it.

Sure sometimes he loses his cool and gives into the urges, but never around anyone. Sure sometimes he cries out and grunts, the pain too much to handle. Sure sometimes he just wants to punch that stupid Anko in the face when she looks at him. She is sympathetic, curious, but most of all _jealous_. And Sasuke doesn't know why, because how can you be jealous of what he is? But he hides it well.

He doesn't call Naruto an idiot anymore. It just isn't even worth it. He doesn't indulge in Sakura's comments, giving her a hint of one. It just doesn't matter. He trains by himself whenever he can. He _is _by himself whenever he can be, because he doesn't need anyone else.

Even when Sakura cries onto his shoulder, asking him to tell her what to do, because if he hurts, she hurts. And he feels sorry for her, because he is hurting so much. He thinks of his mother, what she would do when he cried because of the monsters that would come at night, but now they both know that monsters walk around all time—day or night. He cannot do what his mom did, no one can ever do what she did, but he tries to come close.

He puts a hand on her shoulder and she stiffens, and looks up at him with a tear stained face. He can feel her warm breath and wonders why his is so cold.

"Go home and wipe your eyes," he says, because she looks dead with her black makeup running down her face.

"Wipe them for me," she whispers, leaning closer. "My tears."

He doesn't say anything, but stares.

"I'll wipe yours," she continues after a few seconds of silence.

"I don't have any," he answers.

"Yes, you do," she answers quietly and his lips turn to a frown. And he watches as she leans in, closer and closer. He thinks of how he is moving towards warmth, closer and closer. And she kisses him on the lips, not annoyingly aggressive, but not too delicate either. He pushes her away so that she falls back on her butt, and she looks up at him, tears flowing once again.

"Sasuke, please," she starts. "I love you."

He is clenching his hands, moving his feet into a fighting stance, because that is all he knows how to do.

"I hate you," he hisses and she shrinks, breath cracking from her tears. "I hate you."

"N-no. No you don't."

"Yes, I do," he says, breathing deeply as he composes himself. "Don't ever touch me again."

"But, I-"

"Don't even look at me," he warns, and turns away, anger too loud in his mind to allow his ears to hear her cries.

He becomes more or less a ghost, and floats about, minding his own business, hoping that everyone will do the same. Because this is no longer a show.

Still, he squints under the spotlight, which never seems to go away.

**xiv.**

He knows that life is just a game of chance.

You're dealt the cards and what you do with them is up to you.

He knows it's chance that he was born as an Uchiha and not some lowly civilian, looking upon the ninja with eyes wide with amazement. He knows it's chance that he was born after his brother, and sometimes he wonders how different it would be if he was the one who came along first, but tries to forget about it. Because what good is thinking about something that hadn't even happened?

He knows it's chance that he's put on a team with people he most definitely hates and he knows it's chance that made him realize that maybe he doesn't _hate _them—but dislike them for sure. He can never love them. His mother once told him that you can't love someone else if you can love yourself. And this is why it is impossible. He knows it's chance that he happened to be the strongest, the one most desired during the chuunin exams.

He stares deeper into the mirror, thinking that perhaps if he glares hard enough, it could show him something different. But it never does. He brings his eyes away from their own reflection and looks to the mark on his neck, the mark of Fate. He grips the edges of the sink. Fate had offered, and he would surely take.

Life was just a game of chance, but Sasuke never let that stop him, because if he did, he would have folded along time ago.

He shakes the dice in his hand and blows on it for good luck before he throws it into the muddy hole. The earthworms slither around it.

**xv.**

He thanks her, knocks her out, and lays her on a bench.

Because, really, what else was he supposed to do?

**xvi.**

Uchiha Sasuke likes to think that he will always come out on top, even though it _feels_ like he comes out on the bottom.

When he fights Naruto, he sees that he is stronger than he realized, and he wonders when this happened. But Naruto is fighting for a lost cause and it matters little to Sasuke that he's wasting his time. He might as well gain some knowledge from this fight. He is a worthy opponent to practice on.

So they fight like fire and water, and spread and flow so fast that if someone who had happened to catch a glimpse of them would have thought it amazing. They balance on logs, facing each other and Sasuke likes to think that this is symbolic.

Because the same thing is holding them up. And Sasuke splits the wood in half underneath him and breaks the one underneath Naruto because he is sure the same thing will bring them down.

The fight gets heated, much like the fire that Sasuke throws at Naruto. Something takes over Naruto and Sasuke sees something he has never seen before in the boy. A boy because that is what Naruto will always be. What is this boy? What is this raw energy coming from him? And Sasuke feels better because he knows if Naruto were just Naruto he'd wouldn't even be alive and standing.

But then another thought hits him. Would he kill Naruto if he had the chance? He likes to think so.

Sasuke knows he also has something on his side, and he feels the mark burn against his neck. It changes him, from the inside out. He does not think of brothers, friends, and love. He can only think of enemies, weaklings, and _hate_. And he shows Naruto just that.

He knows Naruto will _never _understand. Because Naruto will never know what it is like to have everything taken away from you.

Naruto is not able to stop him and it is for the best.

Uchiha Sasuke has come out on top, although it doesn't feel like it.

**xvii.**

Orochimaru looks sick, just like everyone else in Sound.

They are pale, lanky. When he sees Orochimaru, he remembers the forest, but soon forgets it. He sees his bony face, bony fingers and realizes that Orochimaru reminds him of a skeleton. Those hard bones make him look old, dead, but they still keep him together, still keep him standing.

He meets Kabuto and realizes he is the only one who looks semi-alive. His silver looking hair shines in the sunlight when they train, just like Kakashi's. And Sasuke tries to cover it with dirt and blood because he shouldn't be thinking of such things. There comes a day when Sasuke can take out the medic and his hair becomes brown, though a couple of specks of silver shine through. Kabuto just lifts himself up, pushes his glasses back and smiles while blood seeps through the corner of his mouth.

"Very good," he says with a nod.

Sasuke stays still, ignoring the pain shooting from his twisted arm.

"I will inform Orochimaru of your progress."

"Enough," Sasuke says. "I have no time for this. I will begin training with Orochimaru."

"I'm sure he'd have it no other way," Kabuto replies. "Let me heal that arm."

And Sasuke extends it to him, because what would he be without bones?

Nothing but a bag of flesh, dumped into a pool of mud.

**xviii.**

The first time Sasuke fucks a girl, he does not feel low.

He likes the way she willingly lays under him, allowing him to do whatever he likes. He likes the way she does what he tells her to do, and even the way that she screams and cries, because finally, someone else understands that pain and pleasure go hand in hand. When he is done, he says nothing as he falls besides her, swearing under his breath. She falls asleep and he leaves.

She doesn't expect him to be there in the morning; he doesn't expect her to care about him.

Sasuke does not feel low after sex. He feels renewed and excited. Sometimes he holds the girl tightly after they fuck, because there is so much adrenaline going through his veins that he would just like to rip the whore apart. He thinks of Itachi, the way that he would have sex. This makes Sasuke pull the girl's hair and she hisses, trying to slap his hand away, but he doesn't let go.

He then thinks of Sakura, which has become a usual occurrence recently. He thinks of her crying and he tells the girl now under him to shut up. And he lets go and leaves, angry that he let himself get so carried away. He returns to the compound and shuts himself into his room to meditate. He imagines Sakura, her hair, her face, her ass. He thinks of how soft her lips might have been if he had just—

He leaves the room to train, to clear his mind.

Sasuke does not feel low after sex. But he feels low after he thinks of the past.

He still has his ball and chain.

And he thinks that he just _might_ dig the grave wider to make room for three. Because even if Sakura wants to walk away, he will never let go. He has to make room for three because he is sure that Sakura will fall with him.

**xix.**

He hates what his life has become, or maybe he always hated what it has been.

He desperately wants to leave Sound, but where would he go? Back to Konoha? He is not stupid or naïve like Sakura and Naruto are. He knows Konoha will not welcome him back with open arms. They will not pardon him. He has worked with one of their greatest enemies, plotted to make him stronger. They will not look upon him with a sympathetic smile. Those days have been long over. But they will wrap their arms around him only to drag him off and tie the rope around his neck. And the floor under him will disappear along with him. He is dead if he goes back to Konoha. He is dead if he leaves Sound.

He cannot leave Sound. That is the conclusion he has come to. But everyday in Sound is a day closer to losing himself. His body will become Orochimaru's. He will be nothing but a distant memory. A once loved son, a desperate brother, an esteemed teammate, and a lost cause, a failure, an avenger. He is dead if he stays in Sound.

He walks amongst the trees, stick in hand as he swats away at the dead leaves on the ground.

He is a dead man if he stays, he is a dead man if he leaves.

He drops the stick and continues on.

He is a dead man walking.

**xx.**

Years have passed. Everything has changed. He has changed.

Years have passed. But why can't he remember a thing?

**xxi.**

He has cut that chain and has thrown the ball away.

Now he is his own man, and nothing can stop him. It was perhaps Fate's doing that had them meet once again. Naruto, the dumb fool, still stands, mouth open in surprise. Sakura is behind him, tears already clouding her vision. And he thinks that they haven't changed a bit. He offers cruel worlds to the both of them and they, in short, tell him he's crazy. He thinks he'd rather be that than weak, like them.

He jumps towards Naruto and puts a hand on his shoulder, and no, the memories do not come back. The sweet words, the warm feelings, the talks, the actions, the things that had made them family, they do not flood back. They do not wash over him. He does not let them carry him away.

He stands his ground like a stone.

"Sasuke, come back!" Sakura yells.

He carries a rock over to his grave and sets it down in front, because he hopes one day, someone will care to remember him.

**xxii.**

Uchiha Sasuke feels he is closer when Orochimaru is dead.

He has never been this close, and it is almost scary. He forms his team, the best team that the current situation allows. They are twisted, sick. Just like him, he thinks. So they should get along. They don't.

In fact, they remind him a great deal of his older team, and he isn't sure if he likes it or not. On one side, he realizes how incredibly inefficient they were, and downright annoying. And that is a good thing because he does not miss them.

"Sasuke," she says, smiling so that her cheeks lift her glasses only the slightest, but he notices.

On the other side, he realizes how incredibly dysfunctional they were, but somehow managed to stay together, stand together—something that he could never do. And that is bad.

The two men on his team give him a look, but he just jumps to the trees, leaving the others confused, and most of all, curious.

He drops his shovel and looks upon his work, determining that there is no more room and he will not make any.

**xxiii.**

It is a strange occurrence that he runs into Sakura.

It is a strange occurrence that they don't even share a couple words before she jumps at him, and even though he thinks she might attack him, he lets her tackle him, just for kicks he thinks. Just for kicks. She lands on top of him and he just stares at her, his eyes swiveling. She shakes her head, and he nods.

"What are you doing?" she asks. "Won't you block?"

"Won't you strike?"

They both know she will not, especially in such a position.

"I'm not the same as I used to be."

He disagrees because he can see that pouting lip of hers.

"You don't have control of me any longer."

He leans forward and kisses her, just to clarify that he really does. She responds well, just like all the other girls—yes, just like the rest—and he pushes her underneath him. The night goes by pretty quickly, just as quickly as they move, because they feel that they must make up for lost time, and they don't know how much is left to do that. When the night sky begins to lighten to a dark navy, they lie next to each other, making sure not to touch.

"I still love you," she says, and he doesn't like this, because he's not used to this.

He says nothing and she doesn't expect him to. But after a while he does and says, "Leave now." He begins to get up but he feels her hand on his arm. He looks back at her, angry. Because she is _just like the rest, _so why is she touching him?

"No."

"Leave now before I _kill_ you," he hisses and pulls him arm from her, and she makes a face as if she'd been burned.

"I'll always love you!" she cries after him when he is fully dressed and is about to jump away.

"Don't bother," he says.

He picks up the shovel, because his work is never done, and fills in part of the hole, because Sakura, he decided, is just another girl—another girl who will still be standing when he falls.

**xxiv.**

A couple of years pass and he's finally made it.

He stands, vomit gurgling in the bottom of this throat. He had pushed himself all the way here, but what if he was to fail? Uchiha Sasuke can't even _look_ at his brother without feeling sick and he wonders for a second, if he is willing to just _give up_, to just lie down and be done with it. But even then, the world would not let him die, because when has the world ever been forgiving?

"Little brother."

_Big Brother has come for you._

They are almost like children again as they fight and Sasuke cries, not because he hates his brother, but because he _loves_ him.

He sees his father, watching from the distance, proud but worried look on his face. And what is that? Even a sense of relief? And beside him is his mother, purely worried and nervous, because her little son is dancing on that fine line, and once you fall, there is no going back. She calls for him and cries for him. He tries to ignore her calls, because damn it, he cannot be distracted.

Him and his brother are badly beaten, but they struggle forward. Itachi is smiling, Sauske is crying. It is something that they have both saved for this moment.

Sasuke manages to lodge a kunai into Itachi's neck, but his older brother launches himself forward, burying a kunai into Sasuke's chest. And they both stumble back and fall onto their knees.

Sasuke listens as his brother chokes and drowns in his own blood.

As Sasuke pulls the kunai from his chest, he realizes his weakness. He looks to his father and mother, not even noticing their odd blonde and pink hair. He looks back at Itachi, and his bastard brother has the nerve to say goodbye. But his brother soon falls backward, eyes closed. And Sasuke allows himself to fall backwards. Above him he can see swirls of pink and blonde, and he would smile if he could, because for some reason he is feeling light. He feels wetness and thinks they must be his mother's tears as she cries his name over, and over, and over. He thinks his father was wrong about the spirits. He can see them, but they are not in the water. They are not even in the dirt. They are in the _sky_.

Kakashi watches the scene from the side as two of his former students rush to their teammate's side.

He sees the bodies, brother next to brother, and can't help but notice that they both never looked so alive.

**xxv.**

And Uchiha Sasuke rests.

-

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* * *

Changed some things here and there.

**Feedback?**

**Part II- Itachi **coming soon.


	2. and the hardly known second

**Alta Marea**

by **stones**

* * *

**i.**

Uchiha Itachi is dead long before he even gets the chance to live.

He is a stubborn baby and causes his mother much pain as she grits her teeth and hisses, pushing for something harder than she had ever before. She wants this, needs this. Perhaps her new infant, a new part of her life, a new thing that she can _mold_, will bring her happiness, something that she had misplaced some time ago.

But she cannot even hold her own son when it is over. Her body, weak-- always too _weak--_, can only lay limp as each muscle pulses, and she dreams that night of her skin tearing apart. A tear and a gush-- her insides embarrass her.

She finally wakes and opens her eyes to her husband holding her child, no _their_ child, awkwardly in his arms. And she glares, because she knows he has gotten to him first. It is a losing battle. If only she had been _stronger_.

"What's with the face?" her husband asks her as he rocks the small baby in his arms, maybe too harshly because the baby starts to whine.

"I'm just happy," she replies with a smile, one her husband should have known to be fake.

He just grunts and nods and looks back to the baby. "As expected."

When Mikoto finally holds her baby, he seems to just mold into her arms, as if he was meant to be there. And she thinks that he is, because he is her baby, and always will be. Her husband stares at her as she hums to the small child, perhaps trying to observe and conclude if Mikoto is a good mother, as he had expected. She tries to ignore him because this is a moment for her and her baby. Her infant is a part of her. She had lost enough of herself to the man standing beside her. She will fight for this one.

"Should we discuss names?" she suggests, lightly grazing her finger over the few strands hair on his tiny head. They are so light, so very fragile, that they flutter about with the tiniest of breaths.

"Don't fill your mind with useless hope," Fugaku grunts next to her, crossing his arms as he continues to look at his family. "I thought I had made myself clear."

She looks at him for only a second, determined to see how mad her husband looks. Perhaps if his face is at least a little relaxed, she can argue with him, if only just to cause him trouble. But his eyes are harsh as he looks into her own. She would love to tell him that seeing a weasel kill a snake on the day they had found out she was pregnant was not a sign-- not a good enough reason to stick their son with that name.

"Itachi," she says, trying it out on her lips. The baby does not move.

"He doesn't cry," her husband points out.

Carefully, she tries to pick out the right words. "He's quiet." They turn out to be satisfactory.

"He's strong," he corrects, taking the clean words and making them something dirty.

"As expected," she hums, uninterested.

There is nothing more than expectations. Perhaps there was never anything more.

**ii.**

The first memory he has of his mother is when he is little. Well, he thinks he is.

The memory is vague, blurry. But he knows his mother and father are both there, but he can only stare at his mother's soft face as it glows in the light of the room. Her hair is messily put up in a low pony tail, but the few pieces sneaking out of the elastic's hold frame her face lightly and he feels his hands move up to grab at them. And they are fine, so very fine and soft, just like his will be one day.

He hears his father's voice and his mother coos at him as she cups some bath water and splashes it over his stomach. The water is cold, he remembers. Cold, but he doesn't mind. Then he sees someone crouch beside his mother-- his father he recognizes. He is close to his mother, their shoulders touching, and his father joins his mother in looking down at their child. He brings them together.

And Uchiha Itachi feels comfortable.

Later when his partner asks him how he can stand bathing in the freezing river, Uchiha Itachi will remember this.

**iii.**

Every time Uchiha Itachi falls, he picks himself back up.

Young Itachi falls on his butt after following his mother around the house, grabbing at the bottom of her skirt whenever he can. She, being in such a frenzy to tidy up the house before Father gets home, brushes his hand off and mumbles for him to leave her be. There is work to be done and he is doing nothing to help. He continues to follow her, however, keeping close to her feet. She turns around so quickly that he is pushed over and down he goes. He lands on the ground with a thump.

There is a large frown on his face, eyebrows titled sadly. His mother stops and crouches down, her face soft as she scans his face.

"Did you fall?" she asks, though they both know the answer. They hear his father enter the house, door sliding roughly. Mikoto doesn't even glance up. Itachi nods to his mother as he slowly stands on wobbly legs and his father enters the room from behind. Mikoto straightens up only slightly, fanning her fingers over her skirt to straighten out the wrinkles. The frown is still on Itachi's face and his lower lip quivers slightly as he rubs his sore bottom. "Did you fall on your butt?" she asks again.

He nods again, the sad frown slowly but surely turning into a mischievous grin. He shifts on his feet playfully and Mikoto smiles. From his crooked lips, he says, "Do you want to kiss it?"

Mikoto laughs, placing a delicate hand to her mouth and Itachi can't help but giggle himself. Fugaku speaks from the other end of the kitchen. Mother and son direct their attention to him.

"Stop that, Itachi," he demands, hands crossed as he inspects the scene before him. "Don't make stupid comments like that."

Mikoto suppresses her giggles, hand falling from her thin lips. Fugaku leaves the room, telling his wife to clean the house. "I've never seen such a mess and lack of discipline," are his parting words.

Itachi doesn't mention that she has been cleaning all day. Itachi doesn't mention that the dirt on the floor is from his tiny feet trotting along after playing in the mud outside. Itachi doesn't mention that his mother tried. But Itachi vows never to say anything so childish again.

Even though he is a child, he's simply not allowed to be.

**iv.**

Uchiha Itachi has never been scared of thunderstorms, but sometimes he pretends for his mother.

He has recently been transferred into a bed, a big boy bed as his mother likes to call it. It's the first storm that sweeps through when he is in his new bed, and he just sits as the thunder cracks outside, giving a warning to the world--one that will never be heeded. Perhaps because it is too loud, or perhaps people just do not care, no one listens to the thunder. But Itachi does.

He is not really surprised when his door cracks open and he sees his mother's pale hands grip the side of the door. Immediately he wants to smile and he manages to wear a crooked grin as she tip-toes in, the floor under her creaking as she makes her way to his bed. He figures she was never a good ninja, but loves her still.

"Itachi," she whispers when she is close, and she smiles down at him. He lifts his tired arms to her, welcoming her.

She lifts the blanket and snuggles herself next to him. As she does this, he makes room and pushes himself into her, taking a deep breath as he rubs his face into her body.

"Don't be scared," she tells him as she rests her head on his, lips against the side of his head. She kisses lightly and sighs, her warm breath tickling Itachi's ear. It isn't an annoying tickle, or one that would even make him want laugh. It is a reminder.

He knows that she is just trying to play her role as a mother, though sometimes they all know she is meant to be the child. Her eyes search the dark room with quick jerks and she listens for the thunder, only to blink and twitch when it sounds.

"Don't be scared," he tells her, using her own words. She just laughs sadly and looks down on him, fingers loosening their hold on his wrist and he wonders why he didn't notice her tight hold before. Because she is letting go, he holds on, and he tries to wrap his small arms around her body, but she just pushes them away. She shakes her head and he is sure that if it wasn't dark, he'd be able to see her eyes, glazed with moisture. With sorrow. With weakness. With beauty.

"Don't be scared," he repeats, his words of comfort seemingly cold. "It's only a storm."

She breaths deeply and he can tell that her nose is stuffy.

"I'm not," she assures him, giving him a playful nudge as her voice cracks. Her hands rub against her face before she moves to hold him again, and this time he waits until her breathing is long and even, and her nose sounds clear.

"Father is home?" he asks quietly as it thunders again. His mother tenses for a moment, and he doesn't whether it is because the loud noise hits her ear drums hard or the mention of his father puts her guard up when she had just let it down. Either makes sense, he thinks.

"Hn," she hums, kissing him on the head again. "He told me not too be long. You know how he hates this." She pauses. "Let's not waste any time." She starts to hum.

The sound if so soft and the storm has faded to a light drizzle. Her hold is so tight and the bed is so warm. His eyes close of their own accord and he allows himself to fall asleep.

In the morning when he wakes, and the bed is cold and his mother is gone, he will be angry with himself.

There is no time to waste. It would be wise to make it last.

One day it will all be gone.

**v.**

He thinks that things will make sense as he grows older.

"Itachi," his father starts with a grunt, and Itachi gets ready to hold his head down, gets ready for a scolding. But there is a long pause and Itachi has to raise his head to look at his father, making sure that everything is okay. When he does this, he sees his father's lips twitching, before he turns to look at his son fully.

"You shouldn't live in regret," he tells his son. "But more importantly, you have to do what you have to do."

Itachi memorizes this.

"Duty before happiness," he continues. "Needs before wants." He looks away, his face blank. "And in time, you'll see that duty brings joy, and that happiness is only temporary when caused by selfishness, by desire."

Itachi's young mind thinks these words are too big.

"Understand?" his father asks, finally finishing.

Itachi shakes his head.

His father just flashes a lopsided grin as he puts his hand above Itachi's head and teasingly ruffles his hair. They both pick themselves off of the grass.

"You will one day."

Fugaku wipes off his pants and they both start down the path that winds around the lake and will eventually take them home. Itachi walks by his father's side, a stick that he had picked up on the way in his hand.

"You like the lake?" his father asks after noticing his son is tripping over his feet because he will not peel his eyes from it. Itachi nods his head and Fugaku continues. "Why?"

"Don't you see them?" Itachi asks, his eyes widening. He points out to the lake with his stick. "There are spirits."

They eventually make it home where Itachi's mother greets them with warm tea. Itachi swirls his cup and looks down at the tea, but thinks of the lake.

One day they will swim together.

**vi.**

Contrary to popular belief, Uchiha Itachi does feel.

He feels proud of himself when his father gives him a his first kunai, though he's not sure what this is really supposed to mean. He feels like he should brag, never boast. So when his mother asks him what he did that day, he shows her but doesn't tell her because that wouldn't be right. He knows she's happy for him all the same.

He feels like a son when he learns that technique--the technique that lights up the sky and sets his veins in flames, that technique that is more than just a technique. It is a stepping stone, a way of life. And he feels this when his father smiles at him, his lips curving just _slightly _more than they ever had before. And he feels this when him and his father walk back, his father's hand in his shoulder.

He feels distraught when he watches someone kill another. The man who kills shows no regret, no remorse, as the man underneath him, drowning in his own blood gasps for air, for the only thing that connects him to this life.

He feels protective as his family eats dinner at night. He watches as his mother smiles at his father. He observes as his father smile, for he does rarely laugh, when his mother tells him something funny that had happened that day. Later, he feels like a martyr when he watches his father and mother sit by his mother's garden. And they watch him watch them. And it is peaceful. And he doesn't understand it.

He feels hollow when his little infant of a brother will be sleeping in bed, and Itachi will be out in the world, killing his first man. The man opens his eyes wide as blood dribbles down his chin. He's beautiful, Itachi thinks. Once strong, so blatantly acting the part until it is reduced into what everyone really is. Weak, frail. Slowly the man drops to his knees, Itachi having to only bend slightly to keep eye-level. One mustn't forget that he is only a child--something the village, his family, the _world _seems to conveniently forget.

The man coughs and his lips twitch into a grin. He places a hand over Itachi's and twists the kunai Itachi's father had given him, only to make himself cringe.

"I have a daughter," he breaths as he falls back onto his butt. Itachi's breath does not even falter as the man falls back, and Itachi lets go of the knife, letting the man fall by himself. "You two must be the same age."

If this is supposed to affect him, it doesn't.

"She would be ashamed," the man continues, "of her old man."

But that does.

"No," Itachi tells him when the man finally dies, when his eyes lose their glow, when his lips hang, when his head rolls lifelessly and his body hangs limply as Itachi grips his kunai and pulls it from the man's body. It is a tight squeeze. It almost does not want to leave.

He doesn't care if that man had a daughter, but he cares that that girl had a father. She wouldn't--isn't ashamed, he knows it. He feels guilty as he washes his kunai when he arrives home. Not caring to spare it a glance _ever_ again, he throws it to the bottom of his drawer.

He watches his parents, sitting silently in the dark.

Don't they know about this _thing _called Death? Don't they know that they could be taken away from him? Do they not know?

He hopes they don't. He doesn't want them to.

He will protect them from this, no matter what it takes.

**vii.**

Uchiha Itachi doesn't understand the concept of siblings. Really.

When his father tells him, quite unemotionally, that there is a baby on its way, Itachi doesn't really care. Instead, he looks to his mother, standing dutifully next to his father. Her face is brighter, and her smile matches the one that she wears when she holds him. The happiness is unnecessary, he thinks. It's just a baby, just another cycle. With any luck, the baby will grow to be strong, and he might give Itachi a good fight, making training alone a thing of the past. If the baby is not productive, it is not needed.

His father must think so too, because his face does not change into the soft smile that his mother wears. He only grunts when his mother talks about the new-coming baby, hoping for a girl. And Uchiha Itachi thinks that his mother is a girl, and it wouldn't be so bad having another one around. His father doesn't care about the gender. He just looks down at his son, and Itachi feels his muscles clench, because he is all his father needs, all the clan needs.

His mother smiles when she comes back from the doctor. It's going to be a boy. She doesn't think he notices when she starts to braid his short hair. He pushes her hand away and she only pulls back, smile still there.

"It's going to be a boy," she whispers to him. His hand reaches up and fingers touch the corners of her mouth. Slowly he pushes her lips down into a straight line.

"Don't smile if you don't want to."

Whatever is coming is changing everything. His family is simply not his family anymore. His mother eats more, he notices. It is disgusting and unlike her. He can only glare. His father becomes even more angry with him, his mother, with the world. When his mother cries, he only prods it further, cutting her with sarcastic comments. Even when Itachi moves to his mother, to perhaps comfort her, his father grabs him by the collar and pushes him away, telling him to leave her alone.

"She only wants the attention," he tells his son.

And Itachi thinks that that's okay. He only wants to give it to her.

Itachi has to admit when he sees his mother's stomach changing everyday, when he sees that _parasite_ finally growing, he finally gets nervous. She has her arm around him, because she can't hold him close, and Itachi is disgusted at her large stomach, separating them. She smiles and grabs his wrist, slowly bringing his hand to lay it on her stomach. Itachi does not pull away, partly because he is interested at what has just softly nudged his hand.

"Do you feel him?" his mother asks, running a hand through his hair. "He's coming."

"Mother, I'll save you," he says in all seriousness.

"From what?" she asks with a smile, a confused smile.

Itachi can only take his hand from his mother's stomach. She tries to pull him back to her, but he pushes himself away from her, hands in a fist against her stomach. Instinctively she lets go of him and puts her arms around her stomach, protecting her son, her future. And Itachi steps away from her, saying, "From everything."

He cannot save himself.

One day he will save her.

One day he will save them all.

**viii.**

He wakes up in the middle of the night when he hears a scream.

Even though he is in a tired daze, his eyes are wide, and he is focusing, listening. When he hears the scream after a while, it is in such a great contrast to the silence, to the darkness, that his skin tingles with an eerie feeling, but there is no time to waste. The scream is followed by a loud groan. And the first thing he can think about is his mother.

Quickly, the fastest he has ever moved he is sure, he runs to where the screams and groans are coming from. No thoughts go through his head because it feels frozen, heavy. He quickly stops outside of the living room and mentally prepares himself for whatever horror lays ahead. There comes a thought that he should have brought a weapon, anything. Then he thinks about his father and where he is, what he's doing, if he's dead, if his mother is next.

He only thinks about it for a few seconds and he will not linger on it. Pushing himself into the room, he sees his father first. His eyes quickly scan the room and he sees his mother, clutching her stomach. Her hair is sweaty and matted. There are dark circles under her eyes and she grits her teeth as she breaths sharply. Uchiha Itachi pauses because he does not know who this monster is.

His father is silently grabbing a few things and he looks at Itachi, his eyes lingering on him. His mother gets quiet again, but bites her bottom lip.

"We need to hurry," she hisses.

"Itachi," his father starts, but he does not look at him. He looks at his mother, at the bead of sweat rolling down her forehead. "Itachi."

This time his father's stern voice makes him turn his head to him.

"Stay here," he instructs him.

Itachi wants to tell him he won't. Something is happening to his mother. He needs to do something, but he continues to listen, because his father looks like he is thinking about what to say. And Itachi always listens.

"I'll send someone to get you and bring you to the hospital," he concludes.

"Can they fix her?" he asks quickly as he listens to his mother's strange breathing.

"I wish," Fugaku grunts quietly to himself, though Itachi hears. "You're little brother will be here soon."

When he hears this, he freezes. As soon as they leave, he runs into his room.

He has to prepare.

One day he'll be ready for anything.

**ix.**

His father tells him he will be a good older brother.

Uchiha Itachi tries not to look worried when he is told this. It is just another thing he must to. He does not know how to be one, or even what an older brother is, but he knows he will study it, practice it, and perfect it. If all else fails, he will redefine it. He tries to look at it, but every time he tries to see over the tall bed, his mother cuddles the baby closer.

She sings songs to the thing, the thing that cannot even open its eyes to see her beauty, her kindness. The thing that cannot even adore her. When she kisses it on the forehead, it begins to whine. Itachi wants to hurt it for it's rudeness, for it's blatant disregard for his mother's feelings.

Itachi grips the blanket and begins to lift himself up, but is stopped with his mother's voice. It is raspy, tired, and ugly, he thinks.

"Stop misbehaving," she scolds him. He lets go of the blanket and backs away from the bed, wanting to say something, but wanting her to know without him having to tell her. "You're probably tired."

He wants to tell her he's not. He's not even acting out.

"It's really late," she continues. He doesn't want to go to sleep, not in the slightest way, but he knows she wants him to, and he thinks he'll do it for her. Slowly, he moves to the uncomfortable, stiff looking chair pressed up against the wall. His mother starts singing to the baby--not him-- the baby, and Itachi decides that _this _is _his_, so he listens to her soft hum.

And soon, very soon, he lets his eyes close. He is taken back to a time where his mother held him and his father smiled at him.

One day he will get it back.

One day they will go back to yesterday.

**x.**

Uchiha Itachi determines living with a younger brother might be harder than he expected.

When he comes home with his mother from the hospital, he does not stop crying. Day and night Itachi can hear his screams and Itachi begins to think that they will drive him crazy. Even in his mother's garden where there is a small pond that he used to find quite smoothing does nothing against the piercing cries of his little brother, who Itachi refers to as the demon child.

"Itachi," his mother sings from the living room. He grips the peach in his hand and peaks into the room, noticing his mother sitting in a chair with a bundle of blankets in her arms. "Come."

He drops the peach at this and his lips tickle, tempted to smile. Quickly, he enters and crosses the room until he is standing before her. As a child, he would have just jumped into her arms and snuggled his head into her chest. But now, he shyly waits before her to bring her to him and wrap those warm blankets around him. As he waits, she bends down and he smiles.

But there is a pause when she opens her arms and the blankets to show a little, peach colored head. Itachi's smile dies as he looks down at the thing.

He thinks it's cute. For a monkey. His face is pink and his eyes look swollen, demented. There is something wet and sticky around its face. Its lips quiver like it is cold.

"This is your little brother," she tells him, finally opening this part of her life to him. He does not know whether to welcome or reject it. "You have to take care of him now. Understand, Itachi?"

Itachi doesn't answer her because only his father is allowed to talk to him like that. Who is his mother to give him orders? He looks up at her, the tired lines on her face, the ugly, sleepy bags under her eyes.

"Itachi," she cooes softly, pulling her arm from under the thing--his little brother-- to reach out for Itachi. But he pulls back.

"Mother, I love you," he tells her, and prepares himself for her soft lips against his forehead, her wide eyes even larger with adoration toward her son. Instead, her cracked lips form words that will never be heard, and her eyes, swollen with lack of sleep narrow disgustingly. She pauses and tilts her head, her hair falling over her shoulder. The ends of the strands tickle the baby's face, causing him to wake up and whimper. His mother immediately puts her hand back under the roll of blankets to pat the infant gently.

Itachi watches only for a moment before the baby's whimpers escalate to a scream. He steps back and turns away. The site is ugly. He does not wish to see it.

He finds his father coming into the house, leaving his shoes on the designated matt. He glances up at Itachi and cracks an amused smile.

"Hasn't shut up yet?" he asks, stepping closer.

Itachi shakes his head. His father's smile widens as he walks past his son, and ruffles his hair with one hand.

"Heaven help us all," he grumbles, disappearing into the house.

Uchiha Itachi thinks heaven cannot help. This problem is far to big.

Though he is not heaven sent, he will fix this.

One day he will set everything alright.

**xi.**

He learns quickly that people forget others.

One day as he walks passed the living room, he sees his mother with his baby brother and he stops to observe. He is laid out on the couch and his mother has his tiny feet in her hand and she wiggles them around as Sasuke smiles. Itachi stares at the smile that his mother is wearing. Her white teeth show and her lips curve dramatically. Itachi's stare hardens as he looks at Sasuke on the couch, the recipient of all this happiness.

His mother begins to tickle Sasuke's bloated baby belly and she rubs her nose on his tiny little one. She scrunches her lips together so that Itachi thinks she looks like a fish and she takes a deep breath and starts to talk in a language Itachi cannot understand. He guesses that it is only made for his mother and brother.

"Coochie, coochie, coo," she sings as she continues to tickle his stomach. Sasuke begins to giggle madly and pounds his tiny, chubby fists up and down. His mother, he sees, looks so happy as she talks to his younger brother and Sasuke giggles like mad, reaching for their mother's dark strands of hair with his tiny hands.

And Itachi leaves the house, thinking that if he doesn't belong, he might as well do something he is _made_ for. He decides he will go train and leave his mother and brother to their happiness. Their little games. Itachi guesses, that maybe, he doesn't _need_ that.

As he walks down the hallway, Itachi tries one last time.

"Coochie, coochie, coo," he mumbles to himself.

And as he hears Sasuke's and his mother's laugh from inside the house, he does not know why but he still can't understand what is so funny. The feeling inside of him tells him he feels incompetent and plainly _stupid._

One day he hopes he'll be the one laughing.

**xii.**

Uchiha Itachi knows that it is important to observe.

His little brother is an idiot, he thinks. He scopes him out in the garden, trying to determine whether or not this child will be worth anything. Itachi can spot it a mile away, but his little brother is making it difficult. Itachi is not sure whether the baby is playing dumb, or if he is really that challenged.

He stands up on his pudgy legs, wobbles, and runs. But Itachi already knows what will happen. The baby will fall. The baby, apparently, doesn't understand that. Again and again, Itachi grabs his hand and hoists the baby up, thinking it's quite annoying that he keeps falling. But he goes, again and again.

And Uchiha Itachi picks him up again and again.

One day he'll take him down.

**xiii.**

He finds it interesting to talk sometimes. _Sometimes._

But when he finds that person he deems worthy of talking to, he prefers to listen to her talk, and he will stab in a quick word or two when needed. Her hands are soft since they are still young, but she already has wrinkles on her fingers. They are spreading so he takes whatever she is carrying to hold for her as they walk side by side, her voice filling the spring air.

"Aren't you scared?" she asks him once after he tells her quickly about his last mission. The water in the bucket he is carrying does not even budge.

"No," he answers simply, glancing at her, knowing there was supposed to be a small grin, but it did not show.

"I'm scared," she continued. "For you."

They continue to walk along the path, their sandals scraping against the pavement. She continues to look at him, scanning him, and he lets her because really, he doesn't mind. He keeps his eyes straight and they are half-lidded, lazy, as the sun beats down on them both.

"Don't be afraid," he tells her once they reach the small, dull fence surrounding her home.

"You scare me," she says with a sad laugh.

He pauses. He has heard this before, jokingly and not, but the words sound different coming from her. "I do?"

She opens the gate for them both and they step into her yard, the grass growing wildly. The gate slams behind them.

"You are so comfortable with death," she says, swaying as she walks. "It makes me wonder what the world is coming to."

"You think I'm a monster?" he asks as he pauses, and she stops to shake her head at him.

"They want you to be one."

They reach her front door and she straightens out her dull looking clothing, standing mediocre next to him. There is the light sound of bugs buzzing in the hot air around them.

"I won't be," he tells her.

"Not if you let them."

He stands in front of her and she awkwardly takes the bucket from him. There is no movement on his part as he stares down at the girl. She just smiles back at him, perhaps used to his strange mannerisms.

"Thank you," she says softly, wrapping the bucket of water with her two arms to hold tightly against her, a few splashes of water wetting her blouse. He gives her a short nod.

"You know," she starts, and he is already ready to listen, "after this--" she looks to her yard, her worn fence, the wild, unkempt grass "--I want to get away."

He doesn't tell her that she most likely will not. The odds point that her family, the village, will forever bind her to this place, forever keep her in misery. He doesn't tell her that because he hears her tell him of a far away place, one with waterfalls and purple sunsets. He hears her tell him about a beautiful house, dark cherry wood floors welcoming every delicate step. He hears her tell him about paradise, and he doesn't want to take that away from her.

Let her dream, he thinks.

One day they will be old. One day they will die. One day there will be no more time left to dream.

"Don't be afraid," he tells her again, bringing a hand up to rest on her shoulder and she tilts her head to graze her chin along his pale hand. He retreats his hand as she smiles.

"I'm not."

He turns and leaves her and for a moment she can only stand and look at this epoch, this one thing in her life that will cause change. He walks with style and grace, he walks with danger and safety. He was born to start the turn of a century. She is not scared.

But the water in the bucket is shaking.

**xiv.**

He is always interested.

Especially when his mother sits him down on the couch and she brings out an album, to show him a younger version of himself. He isn't interested it that. He looks small, pathetic, weak. He looks like Sasuke. Instead he looks at pictures of his father-- his straight posture and smile that he is trying to hide. There is a women under his arm, and he realizes that this girl is not his mother. They hold each other tightly.

He sees one of his mother, of her arms spread open wide like they are waiting to hold him, like she is just waiting for him in her arms. Her smile is wide, wider than he has ever seen before. He thinks he is smiling as he looks at the picture.

"Strange, isn't it?" she asks him. "How much people change?"

And he doesn't know if she means physically, but he doesn't think so. He puts a finger over the picture, over her hair. He thinks it would feel soft, just like it does now. They are both startled by a thump that sounds deep into the house.

Immediately his mother is up. Quickly. Quicker than he had ever seen before. She gasps, "Sasuke." He is left watching her retreating back.

"Strange," he whispers to himself, looking back down at the picture of his young mother.

When she is back, the album is already closed and he is already standing. She smiles at him as she moves forward.

"Itachi," she laughs. "It was only Sasuke. He was trying to get out of his crib, but thankfully it was only…" Her voice trails off as he walks toward her.

"I'm tired," he simply tells her before handing her the album. He leaves the room and she puts the pictures away, already smiling at the thought of showing them to her younger son.

Uchiha Itachi thinks of the picture in his head.

One day his mother will smile like that again.

**xv.**

Boys will be boys is something his mother always says.

His mother, he believes, always speaks the truth.

One day he finds himself with Shisui, content with sitting with him after they practice throwing shiruken. Well, Shisui says he doesn't need the practice, and Itachi doesn't say anything, but he thinks he does. Shisui watches enviously as Itachi pulls out his lunch, supplied by his mother, while he pulls out his own sandwhich, made by him himself.

"Shisui," Itachi calls to him.

He grunts and lifts his head to look at the boy. "Hn?"

"Extra water?"

"Backpack."

Itachi crawls over to the bag and opens it. He sees an extra canteen of water instantly, but the other things interest him. He pushes away Shisui's kunais and weapons to look at his possessions. A pack of gum, socks, and a small book. Interested, he grabs the book and it falls open. He stares at the picture, confused.

"Hey, hey," he hears Shisui say behind him as he comes toward Itachi on all fours. He reaches around Itachi, his back against his, to grab the book and softly he pulls it away from Itachi. "That's not for you."

"What is that?"

"It's not _mine_," his cousin says. He gives a lopsided grin to Itachi before holding out the book and flipping it open. It lands on the same page Itachi had seen before. "Someone gave it to me."

"Why?"

"Why?" Shisui asks with a laugh, then he shrugs. "I guess you're too young."

"For what?"

"Don't you ever think about women?"

"Women?" Itachi repeats quietly. Women? "Like Mother?"

"Ew," Shisui hisses with disgust. "No. Women you would like to have sex with."

Itachi shakes his head. He had never given it much thought really, but the image of the girl standing with a bucket flashes before his eyes. Shisui huffs and sticks the picture in front of his face again. The woman's hair is messy and scattered. Itachi thinks it's ugly. Her legs are propped open, showing large thighs. Her chest is bloated, he realizes. Her waist narrows, but then her hips jut out.

"I want to have sex with women like this?" Itachi asks.

"Why wouldn't you?" Shisui counters.

Why would he, Itachi thinks, but does not say.

There is a lot he would like to, but does not have the chance say.

One day everything that needs to be said, will be said, and this will be done without even opening his mouth.

**xvi.**

Uchiha Itachi does not like anything that isn't smooth.

He likes knives, he likes the floors that his mother shines, he likes porcelain skin. He doesn't like anything that appears to be dirty or infested with fleas and ticks. He does not like animals. Specifically cats. He glares at his brother, and his mother's generosity. But he knows his father will not stand for this and he is glad. He watches his mother become upset about the cat and watches his father lay down the law. And he is happy when the dreadful thing is gone the next day.

He is even happier when he hears Sasuke cry.

**xvii.**

Everything grows. This Uchiha Itachi knows.

His brother is no longer a martian or a young brat. He is growing. Quickly. It is a challenge to keep this boy happy, Itachi notices, and in all honestly, he thinks it is a waste of time. He wants too much of his father's approval and Itachi's attention. His eyes only seem content around their mother, and Itachi thinks that this makes sense. She has a way with that.

His little brother asks one day to see the first kunai his father had given him and honestly, Itachi had forgotten about it completely. But he recalls that it is at the bottom of his drawer and he opens it, staring down into the deep drawer, into the pit of hell. He holds the kunai in his hand and it feels so comfortable, so familiar. He is brought into a different place, a different time, until his brother jumps at his back, pushing him forward annoyingly.

Wordlessly, he holds it over his shoulder and Sasuke takes it happily, sloppily, and Itachi feels the blade trace the skin on his neck.

One day he thinks as he eyes scan, but don't read, the scroll in front of him. Even the wall, at the moment seems more interesting. Curiously, he turns his head to look at his younger brother and is surprised at what he sees. His kunai is lodged in his palm and there is a long streak of red crawling down the youth's pale arm, dripping onto his clean sheets. Itachi is stunned for a moment and he doesn't know if it is because the kid is obviously dumb or because the sight is breathtaking.

He stands softly and walks to the bed, his eyes on the bloody kunai, focusing intensely, much like his younger brother. He puts his hand over Sasuke's and slowly, together, they pull it out from Sasuke's hand. Later, Itachi decides to clean it. He thinks of the first man he had killed. He thinks of Sasuke. He thinks that this kunai is the man's. Sasuke's blood is not deserving of the silvery glint of the blade, of all the sweat Itachi had poured into this one little knife.

At night he can hear the man groan, he can see the man's face, he listens to the distinct tears of flesh, to his mothers screams. He can imagine the kunai at the bottom of the drawer. He can hear his brother breathing in the room next door. It does not give him peace.

His mother barely speaks to him. She greets him kindly and wishes him luck for missions, but she does not let her eyes linger on him anymore. She does not graze his cheeks with her delicate hands. She does this for Sasuke, and Itachi doesn't know why. Itachi, having seen this in movies, sneaks to his mother's garden and pulls tulips, her favorites. Before morning, when his father is already out of bed and his mother is peacefully sleeping, like an angel he thinks, he puts the tulip on her nightstand. She never says anything to him about it.

His father is angry. As usual. Slowly he begins to break away from Itachi. And Itachi later thinks this is unfair when he hears the rumors. He was not the one who had left them. Don't you see? They had left _him. _Training with father and son becomes a thing of the past. Instead, he boasts about Itachi to the clan, and Itachi lets him because he knows it makes his father feel good about himself. But when they pass each other, his father pretends like he is not there, but Itachi _knows_ his father is there and he knows he is _ignoring_ him. And that would have hurt if Itachi had not already trained himself to avoid things like this.

He watches his mother in the morning, when she is preparing breakfast and he is sitting at the table. Her legs are slim, smooth looking like butter, as she shifts her weight from foot to foot, trying to make sure he legs don't fall asleep. As she does this, her hips swing back and forth and he stares. Not necessarily at her body, but at memories. Of her shaking hips when she held him when he was younger and she would dance around the room slowly. He catches glimpses of her chest, her chest that he used to lay his head against just to hear her beautiful, beating heart. He sees her lips, the lips that use to shower him with affection, her cheeks and soft skin, skin that used to pet his own. He watches her hair, her hair and scent that he finds himself wanting to breath in.

And he is such in a peaceful state that he doesn't even notice his brother until he speaks.

"_Bitch."_

And Itachi's head snaps to the side, angry. His brother, this monster, this thing, is really pushing it. And he turns to his mother when he hears her hiss, noticing she had burnt herself. She runs from the room, pushing his little brother in the process. Good, Itachi thinks. His mother will not stand for this. Itachi deposits his plate in the sink and follows his mothers soft whimpers.

He finds her in her garden. Even the koi fish in the pond seem perplexed by the beautiful sadness. He crouches beside her. She is startled by his presence. There is a moment where her cheeks glow, shinier now because of her silent tears. He swallows deeply and she throws herself into him. Slowly, he wraps his arms around her, putting his face into her hair, breathing deeply. He feels her soft skin as he rubs her arms and her body shakes lightly.

"What did I do wrong?" she asks him, her face still buried into his clothes.

He should tell her that she had lost track of what is important--her true son and her husband. She has prioritized useless things. She has forgotten about her happiness. She has let his little brother take that away. And even though he knows that there is strength in numbers, that she can identify with Sasuke, he wants to tell her that she belongs in his arms, that he doesn't care. He loves her. That Sasuke doesn't deserve her. But he doesn't tell her. Because she must see the truth, and that is why she is asking.

But she doesn't and he knows this when she says, "I just want Sasuke's love."

He unwraps his arms around this woman, this woman that is not his mother, and leaves her alone in the garden. Behind him he closes the door to the outside and to the sick scene of her putting her head in her hands to cry. She is soon going to be a lost cause.

When he comes home from a mission, he finds his mother sharing cake with his younger brother. They only glance up before they become wrapped back in their silly conversation, their childish stories. Itachi wants to hit her, wants to make her bleed for her stupidity. He feels betrayed. He passes his father and the only noise is their footsteps. He feels invisible.

So when Sasuke wants to trade him, his kunai for Sasuke's, he accepts. Quickly. Gratefully, he gathers all that is his and tries to give it to Sasuke, and he attempts to take everything of Sasuke's, everything that had once been his back.

But it doesn't work.

Everything grows. This Uchiha Itachi knows.

So when things get worse, not better, he decides he will stop this now before it gets too far.

One day he does it.

**xviii.**

He understands that there is a time to speak, and a time to listen.

This is a time to listen.

He sits on the grass, one leg spread out, the other bent. Down below he can see the village, the separate districts, the stone, the walls that divide. He can hear the man move behind him, but he doesn't even turn around.

"Pieces of shit," he hisses. Itachi does not say anything. "All of them."

He doesn't tell the man that he disagrees, that he is not doing this because he holds a grudge in his heart. He doesn't tell him this because it is easier if he does not know.

"I suppose I'll deal with your family," he continues behind Itachi, voice low as he lets himself think about the night about to come. "To make things easier."

"No," Itachi finally says, because this is a time to speak.

The man is surprised and this can be seen by his eyes that slightly sparkle. But the feeling is soon gone and instead a sly grin plays itself on his lips. The boy is truly something else. The boy who can kill his own will be killed by none.

"Leave them to me," he says before he stands and abruptly leaves the scene.

The man is left behind, arms behind his back, as his eyes sweep over the village.

Yes, the boy will go far.

**xix.**

He thinks that the first time is always the worst.

He remembers his first time throwing a kunai. Pathetic. He remembers his first time getting seriously injured. Terrifying. He remembers his first time kissing. Unexpected. His first time having sex? Not knowing enough to fully enjoy it.

He had just come back from the hills in the distance, from a break from the world, and his veins lit with electricity, and thunder boomed in his head. Quickly, he followed a familiar path and now sees that she is already walking. He comes up behind her and takes the logs that she is carrying, only to drop them on the ground.

"Hey!" she yells, spinning around to face him and give the logs on the ground a frustrated look. "What was that for?"

She is now glaring at him, her lips rolled into a small pout. And they are wet and look soft, so without thinking, he pulls her to him and sets his lips on hers. She is startled at first, and he feels this, and thinks it is expected. But he does not expect her to push herself toward him and snake her tongue out to run along his lips.

He holds her there for a while, because her lips are so soft pressed against his own, and because she is holding onto him so tightly that if she were to let go, she would go tumbling backwards. But she finally pulls away, out of breath.

"Itachi," she breathes, trying to sound upset though there is a smile on her face. "Slow down."

Already he is reaching for her again. "Quiet," he tells her.

"W-What's the hurry?" she asks, stepping back.

He stares at her blankly. Doesn't she understand?

Tomorrow will happen and he will be gone. He wishes he could tell her, but he can't. Instead, he kisses her again.

Uchiha Itachi knows that those who think they have all the time in the world waste the most.

**xx.**

Practice makes perfect.

And that is why he killed Shisui. Well that and for his eyes, the eyes that will help him expose the truth to everyone. They had guessed it was him who had done it of course. Who was the only one who had the guts to do such a thing? All the fingers point to only one.

And now he stands in the middle of the street, feeling absolutey _drunk_ on good feelings and anticipation.

He has help killing the useless, the bodies that are only a makeup of flesh, organs, bones, and teeth. He has help from someone smart, someone worthy, someone just like him. Most would call it brainwash. Itachi begs to differ. Who's to say we are not all brainwashed as we speak?

So when he knocks the rest down like pawns, one by one, he slowly makes his way to his own home. He first searches for Sasuke, to get him out the way. What he is about to do is meant for his family, and his family alone. He doesn't need the kid getting in the way. But Itachi should have planned for this, should have expected the unexpected. But all is well. He will turn it into something else.

There is no time to waste as he opens the door to his home. His father is not home, but his mother is and he finds her in her garden, sitting, shaking, waiting like a lamb for the chopping block. She hears his footsteps as he walks closer, his face remaining expressionless. He stands before her and at first they just stare, and he realizes her face is dry, her eyes are blank, but he can see her emotions, he can _feel_ them, and they excite him because they are _all_ directed at him.

In a split instant, she is gone from her spot and he already predicts where she is bolting to. The door. To the street. To the hell that waits outside. And he quickly moves, stopping her before she reaches the door to get into the house. She is fumbling with the door even though she is pressed against it and can't move. Her body raises and falls against his as she breaths deeply, and frankly, his breath is catching short.

"Stop," she says, her voice cracking. Quicker and quicker, she whines, "stop, stop, stop" until all that comes out is a string of 's' sounds and sharp breaths.

When her body, her mind, is tired and he feels her loosen in his arms, he peels her away from the door, holding her like she is some kind of pet or animal that had hurt itself, and he is afraid of her running away. He tries to hush her as he leads her to a room, pausing once or twice when she attempts to rip away from him or tries to punch him.

The room is dark, the only light coming from outside. He likes it, he thinks. It fits this perfectly. He leads his mother into the room and she is lightly crying now, wiping her nose with her sleeve. The running mess from her nose he scowls at, but is thankful for, because this will only make it easier. He leans her against a wall, pausing to make sure she doesn't fall, because at this point he thinks she understands what is going on, and already her soul is getting ready for departure.

"What have you done with your father?" she asks him. Surprised, he turns to look at her.

"Nothing."

"Liar," she spits at him. "Your brother?"

"He is alive."

"Liar!" she yells again, spit flying from her mouth as she moves toward him, but he is already ready for her struggles, and he holds her hands as she tries to fight against him. "Monster!" He shushes into her ear, trying to wrap his arms around her. It's hard to hear her call him the things she does. In fact it kills, but that is why he is doing this.

Soon she stops fighting and instead pushes her body into his, and he closes his eyes. She puts her hands on his chest and gathers clothing into her hands to grip tightly. He can feel her tears soak through his shirt, through his skin, through every part of him. Her tears fuel him. Her sad tears. And he is doing this to dry them. He is doing this to make her happy.

"My baby boy," she whispers into him, nuzzling her face against him. Lightly, so much softer, she whispers, "My baby."

His eyes are still closed and they hold each other. He tries to memorize everything. The light scent of moisture in her hair, her soft, soft skin that is covered with bumps, bumps from fright. He memorizes how wonderfully she fits into his arms, how wonderfully he used to mold into hers. He memorizes her chokes and sobs, her soft voice as she calls to him.

"My baby boy."

She puts a hand into his hair, his fine, thin hair, so much like her own.

"I used to hold you so close."

She holds him tighter, trying to compress him into what he used to be, what he still is. Her baby. Though she does not know it. She is foolish, misguided. Like a lost child. He takes pity.

"I don't understand," she whispers to him when he looks down at her soft face, so lost, so confused.

"One day you will."

He swallows deeply as he slowly pulls away from her. She is looking into his face, into her own life, her mistakes, her triumphs. Her failure.

"On your knees," he tells her softly.

And in such a short time, she is his mother once more. Because she is graceful, because she is serene, because she is beautiful, she steps back and slowly drops to her knees, looking up at him. He tells her in one word to wait, and mentally tells himself the same thing. He does not turn away from her as they are still in silence. She stares at his feet, and he wonders what she is thinking about. Is her husband dead? He already told her. What happened to her other son? He already told her. She didn't believe him but maybe now she does.

They both hear rapid footsteps coming towards them and Itachi knows they are his father's. The door opens and he watches as his mother closes her eyes, her bottom lip quivering.

"You son of a bitch," his father hisses. Itachi doesn't face him, but can hear his father come toward him sloppily, a result of his pure rage. Easily, Itachi catches his wrist and flings him toward his mother. He lands heavily next to his wife.

Itachi surveys the scene as he draws his blade. His father picks himself up on his knees, staring hard at his son. His mother, he sees, frightened and disbelieving, holds herself because no one else will and looks away from her husband and son, to Itachi's shadow. It is tall and dark, towering above their own.

Itachi counts in his head. The sooner this is over, the better. Every moment he hesitates, every moment he pauses is just another step in making this harder. He looks back to his father and raises the blade.

"So this is where we fall," his father says, clenching his jaw.

Itachi shakes his head. "This is where we _stand_."

And the blade goes down. His father follows shortly after.

The feeling, so _energetic,_ so _euphoric, _grips him completely and sends a shudder through his spine. He doesn't even hear his mother's piercing scream. He will never know what he has missed.

His mother will come next, dying dutifully next to her husband lying on the ground, bleeding profusely from his neck, the blood drowning them all, but at the same time, allowing an escape.

His mother starts to shake violently and cries hysterically. Even though she had been a good ninja in her time, a women ninja who knew not to take her work too seriously for one day she would find a husband, she had been strong. She is strong. And he cannot blame her for her tears. He cannot blame her. She is his mother. He cannot damn her.

Slowly, peacefully, he crouches down before her. She looks at him and screams, but does not glance away, and he respects that. He latches onto her arm quickly and she jumps at the sudden movement. He pulls her to him and he is stuck on how to do this. He knows it should be quick, time is running out. But needless to say, this is not easy for him to do.

It is for the best. It must be done. But having her in his arms, after all this time, sets him back. She is holding onto his clothing tightly and shaking against him.

He wants to knock her out, but he thinks she deserves better than that. She is strong. She deserves a brave death. So he when he stabs her, he is happy that all she does is stutter. She must have gone into shock.

"When you wake up," he tells her as her grip loosens, as she slumps into him, "I'll be there."

And he lets her fall back. Her lips still quiver when she lands on top of her husband's back. The blood is flowing through her lips, her eyes are wide, unblinking. It's breathtaking.

In the background, he can hear the orchestra, the soft winds and the bellowing brass. He can hear the choir, the bells.

He stands back and looks at his family, his face emotionless and eyes blank. He sees them ascend.

One day he too will fly.

**xxi.**

Sasuke is a minor inconvenience and for now he'll over look it.

**xxii.**

Uchiha Itachi holds his childhood close.

Many would not call it a childhood, but he sees it for what it really is. He was a child, he was a son. He still is. All that's left is time--time that he will waste, time that he does not care for, time that keeps him away from his family. It is only a matter of time before he joins them. And that is why he so easily tells Sasuke what to do. The foolish thing would never achieve it alone. Itachi clearly spells it out for him. Make yourself stronger. Come find me. Kill me. Because that is really what he wants. He only hopes his younger brother can deliver.

He finds a group to kill time with. His teacher had recruited him, and Itachi had accepted. They are all fools, he thinks. Fools just like him. Fools that work for something that they don't even understand. What good is fighting the battle when you don't know what the war is about? But they do it anyway. Useless, Itachi thinks. All of it.

He meets new people. Some interesting. Others not so much.

He likes his partner, however. He finds him very tolerable.

At night they do not speak but they recognize each other's presence. They do not overstep boundaries, they do not poke their noses in what does not need to be known. Because they have respect. In the morning, they wish each other a good morning and hopefully an easy day. Because that is something they have in common. They do not care for unnecessary things. So when they fight, when they battle, they understand one another and they finish it quickly.

He knows when people are fools.

Orochimaru is a fool.

He is a fool to believe that Itachi is weak, so weak that he'll let Orochimaru steal what is his. It is _his_. And he doesn't take kindly to others trying to take what belongs to him. So he thinks that perhaps instead of the killing the dreadful fool, he can shoo him off. And he does. Like a little cat, Itachi muses before he allows himself to grin.

Later when they battle the Leaf ninja, Itachi tries to finish it quickly because honestly, this is unneeded. The woman's lip quivers and he stares at them. They twitch and tense just like his mother's. She is interesting. He thinks that maybe he'll observe this. She tries to trap him in an illusion. A tree. A pathetic try. It reminds him of his own when he had started practicing with illusions. How interesting, he thinks. He stands still for a second, making her believe that she had gotten somewhere.

But then he reverses it, easily trapping her within her own illusion. And it is easy, so easy. She glares at him with those red eyes and he hates the color of them. He doesn't have to really say anything because he knows that she is smart enough to pick up the mockery. But he does anyway, making her feel even more pathetic. Even angrier, she shakes, and it's cute, he thinks-- the way her cheeks puff and eyes narrow. So angry, her lips almost in an annoyed pout. Like a child. Like the girl he used to see, he thinks.

He tries to scare her and perhaps it works. Well, he thinks it very well does because she bites her lower lip and gets herself free. He is about to smirk but then he hears Kisame and the other man's voices and he thinks that they are being annoying. So he kicks her away in an attempt to separate them from the other two.

Annoyingly, someone else interrupts. Effortlessly, he traps him in an illusion.

Things get a little complicated, a little messy. He can feel his partner's frustration and his is growing quickly. He sees her pout again when they take off.

She reminds him of his childhood.

He holds it close.

**xxiii.**

He has always been picky.

With his food, clothing, anything. Women included.

He doesn't droll after them like Kisame, nor does he wish to deal with multiple women. He finds one that he can't peel his eyes from, and this is a sign that she is worth his time. And he can only stare lazily at her, his smirk covered by his collar, when she looks back at him, eyelashes fluttering, and he hears Kisame gawk and curse at his luck. Uchiha Itachi waits and looks because Uchiha Itachi does not settle.

He comes to her when her needs her and she is always waiting. When he is with her, she resembles more. The girl from his past, the women with red eyes, his mother. She is not herself, more or less a representation. Later he realizes that he doesn't even remember her name. But her voice is soft, like her hair. He doesn't like to see her cry but makes her anyway. She fits nicely in his arms and she thinks so too. Her husband, however, doesn't.

When she does something unlike what she is supposed to be, he bids her goodbye and continues to the next one. One that is worthy.

One day he will not have to settle for cheap imitations.

**xxiv.**

Uchiha Itachi does not remember what is not important to him.

And for this reason, when he sees Sasuke again after such a long time, it does not stick really stick in his mind. What he does remember is anger. Sasuke's anger is blind rage and ultimately stupid. Itachi thinks it's funny, but also quite annoying.

He should have remembered that the boy always liked to play the victim.

And Itachi lets him, because his hate is not strong enough. At this rate, Sasuke will never be able to even lay a finger on him. So Itachi kindly _reminds_ him and drops him like a sack of potatoes.

Uchiha Itachi thinks it's funny that that scene is so vague in his mind, and yet, he remembers that the girl he once knew loved peaches, just like him.

**xxv.**

When his sickness gets worse, Uchiha Itachi is happy.

Because that means his family is calling for him.

"Wait," he tells them with a smirk.

Because Sasuke is coming.

He has heard of Sasuke's desperate attempts, and thinks it is pathetic. But it would be rude not to greet him after all his hard work.

So he continues to wait. He hopes Sasuke will hurry.

That day is not coming fast enough.

**xxvi.**

Uchiha Itachi takes responsibility for everything he has done.

When a strange girl with pink hair jumps on his back, rudely interrupting his battle with the kyuubi, he flips her over him and gets her to the ground. He lets Kisame hold the demon child off while he stares at the girl, deciding what to do with this.

She is very angry, very upset. And he can't help but wonder why. Is she cross with him because of his family's death? He wants to tell her to see her way of out his business, because it is annoying when people talk about what they do not understand. But she beats him to the first words.

"Asshole!" she yells at him. "Stupid fuck!"

She is bleeding from her mouth but her teeth still clench as she grips his shirt collar. Her hold is strong and her muscles flex. He gives them a look, determining that he does not like them. Her skin isn't soft, her hair is matted. She is strong, very strong. A part of him admires this, but the other does not care for it. He looks at her face and relaxes his body above hers so that he is now making it difficult for her to breath.

"Do you know what you have done to Sasuke?" she asks, spitting blood at him.

"Aa," he responds and she pauses, and he thinks that that is because she was not expecting an honest answer.

"And you feel no regret?"

"Sometimes I think I should have killed him," he tells her truthfully. And because of his answer, she begins to thrash. Wildly.

"I hate you!" she hisses, struggling. She manages to turn around so that now she is lying flat on her stomach, his weight crushing against her back. "I fucking hate you."

"You don't even know who I am," he growls into her ear. And he wonders why he is speaking so much to her, wondering why he is trying to justify his actions to someone. Because he had never needed to before, so why now? Why her?

She answers this childishly. "Well, whatever you are, I hate it!"

She continues to struggle and he doesn't let go. He doesn't know why. But she screams and thrashes and the demon boy is yelling that he is coming for her. And Itachi wants to tell him that he's not hurting her. If he was not on top of her, she would be trying to hurt him.

But Uchiha Itachi knows he is supposed to be the villain, so it all makes sense.

She stops moving and lays still, breath harsh. His lips are still by her ear as they both watch their partners battle one another.

"I can't wait till Sasuke kills you," she says below him.

And he just answers, "Neither can I."

She doesn't ask because he is already gone.

One day he'll be gone for good.

**xxvii.**

He feels light when he sees his brother across from him.

It is an out of body experience. He sees himself with his brother, fighting expertly. He hears annoying voices in the background and wishes that these annoying teammates of his brother's would just keel over. This is his moment. How dare they interrupt it with their irritating voices.

But he tries to look past it. Nothing can stop this beauty. Nothing.

Both are badly wounded, so close. So very close. He smiles while Sasuke cries. He stares at these tears whenever he has the chance. They glisten and glow, surrounding him with light. He knows that Sasuke is frustrated, he knows wants to give up. But he doesn't, and Itachi has to admit that the brat has surprised him. They yell at each other, for revenge, for glory.

Itachi recognizes the kunai Sasuke is using, and he is thankful that Sasuke has allowed for a poetic moment. He sees the blood of the man, he sees his father's fingerprints. And he is satisfied when his blood, his own mark, is on it too.

When he feels that kunai wedging itself into his scull, he feels _it_. He knows all the wait has paid off. It feels so good. He lurches forward, letting himself do something that he had always wanted to do, finally. He lets himself stab the damn monster, the monster that glares back at him, his eyes almost as red as his own. He smiles at his brother and wishes him goodbye. He falls back, not caring whether the boy lives or dies. Frankly, he doesn't care.

He feels the waves crash against him. In his head, he hears a ticking clock. In a moment, he is in the sky.

He has waited.

**xxviii.**

The day has finally come.

-

-

The person lays the rose in front of the wall, in front of the fan. Her lips twitch into a small smile, perhaps out of relief or maybe because of sick humor. In his opinion, it is because of the first. But she bows her head, letting her pink hair fall in front of her face. Someone stands next to her and they link each other's fingers. They stand for a while, just staring at the fan. The fan that is already fading, the fan that will most likely be gone soon. The wind, the rain, the sleet, the storms will wash it away, just like one day they too will be gone forever.

But they swim against the waves, at least for the time being. The tide quickly races to the shore, but they know. They now know from exampe, and they will swim against the tide instead of ride ontop.

They turn away from the fan and walk out of the district, not sparing a second glance. They don't need concrete, plaster, and paint to remind them. It is written on the walls, engraved in their own bodies. Both will eventually wither away. His blonde hair dances in the wind, and she flips hers to feel the wind blow against her skin. The earth is moving. They feel it.

And still the kids sing.

_Poor family Uchiha_

_What have you learned?_

_Poor family Uchiha_

_The world still turns._

In the future, the walls will be crushed to nothing but rubble, the lines will be erased. Their names, unknown. Their story, cast away. And someone will walk over where the fan once was. Grass will grow from the dirt.

The roses will still bleed, but history, history will eventually repeat.

-

-

-

-

* * *

I know I'm avoiding things.

But I'm tired of brotherly love.

I'll come back to hopefully get all my typos.

I might come back with rewrites.

**Feedback?**


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